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ViiiGix  Axn  Child 

{Metropolitan  Musenm  of  Art.  New  York) 


FORM  PROBLEMS 

I 

’ OF  THF 

GOTHIC 

BY 

W.  WORRINGER 


AUTHORIZED  AMERICAN  EDITION 

For  Which  the  Translator  Has  Selected  Illustrative  Mate7-ial 
Chiefly  fro?n  American  Collections 


153093 


G.  E.  STECHERT  & CO. 
151-15.5  West  25th  St. 
New  York 


NUPTIALS 

SHAPLEY-RUSK 

September  Nineteenth 
Nineteen  Hundred  Eighteen 


153093 


Preface  to  the  First  Edition 

T N its  basic  views  the  present  psychological  investig’a- 
tion  of  style  is  a sequel  to  my  earlier  book,  Abstrac- 
tion and  Empathy,  which  in  its  third  edition  is  being 
brought  out  simultaneously  by  the  same  publisher. 
Accordingly,  whoever  desires  to  orientate  himself  in 
regard  to  the  premises  that  underlie  the  method  em- 
ployed in  Form  Problems  of  the  Gothic  is  referred  to 
those  fundamental  investigations. 

As  for  the  rest,  I believe  that  my  book  may  be 
read  and  understood  even  without  such  preparation, 
especially  since  I have  taken  pains  in  the  course  of  this 
new  statement  to  reiterate  in  concentrated  form  those 
premises  that  form  the  basis  of  my  reasoning. 

The  illustrations,  which  the  publisher  has  gener- 
ously added  to  the  book,  do  not  claim  at  all  to 
be  exact  scientific  confirmation  of  what  is  developed 
in  the  text.  They  are  intended,  rather,  to  be  taken 
primarily  as  harmonizing  with  the  spirit  of  the  text 
they  accompany.  Hence,  their  intangible  qualities  have 
helped  to  determine  the  selection. 

This  is  not,  however,  to  say  that  the  illustrations 
are  superfluous  in  scientific  respects:  rather,  I hope 
that  after  one  has  perused  the  text,  one  will  ap- 
preciate these  illustrative  additions  with  an  entirely 
new  understanding.  Juist  that  is  the  real  test  of  my 
thesis. 

Berne,  Autumn,  1910 

The  Author 


> 3/ 3^ 


'^3.  ^ ^ 


(9) 


Preface  to  the  Second  and  Third  Editions 


HE  second  and  third  editions  offer  the  unaltered 


impression  of  the  first,  though  this  fact  is  not  in- 
tended as  any  proof  of  its  perfection.  For  books  of  this 
sort  that  are  conceived  and  carried  out  as  a unit  per- 
mit of  no  subsequent  patchwork. 

Yet  it  should  be  added  in  the  preface  at  least  that 
the  failure  to  take  up  the  Oriental  or  the  Byzantine 
question  for  the  Middle  Ages  in  northern  Europe  does 
not  at  all  signify  a rejection  of  these  theories  of 
eastern  influence.  Only  the  consideration  that  a com- 
plicated and  therefore  digressing  special  investigation 
was  required  to  make  this  problem  of  history  also  a 
problem  of  style  psychology  caused  me  to  renoujnce 
this  task  for  the  present.  That,  in  a general  way,  the 
requisite  psychological  conditions  exist  for  making  the 
artistic  will  of  the  Byzantine  appear  to  the  Gothic  man 
as  having  elective  affinity  can  even  now  be  read  between 
the  lines  of  my  book.  And,  of  course,  according  to  my 
whole  conception,  this  feeling  of  elective  affinity  in 
artistic  will  is  the  primary  thing  and  the  historical 
fact  of  influence  is  only  an  outer  consequence  of  it. 
One  may  rest  content,  therefore,  with  the  establishment 
of  the  possibility  of  attunement  and  leave  the  descrip- 
tion of  the  more  exact  process  of  the  formation  of  the 
Gothic-Byzantine  tone  to  a later  special  investigation 
by  the  author. 


Berne,  May,  1912 

The  Author 


(10) 


CONTENTS 


Page 

Introduction  15 

Aesthetic  and  Art  Theory  19 

Art  Study  as  Human  Psychology  25 

Primitive  Man  27 

Classical  Man  35 

Oriental  Man  40 

The  Latent  Gothic  of  Early  Northern  Ornament  43 

The  Infinite  Melody  of  Northern  Line  52 

From  Animal  Ornament  to  the  Art  of  Holhein  55 

Transcendentalism  of  the  Gothic  World  of  Expression  64 

Northern  Religious  Feeling  70 

The  Principle  of  Classical  Architecture  75 

The  Principle  of  Gothic  Architecture  83 

The  Fortunes  of  the  Gothic  Form  Will  89 

The  Romanesque  Style  97 

Inceptive  Emancipation  from  the  Principle  of  Classical  Architecture  103 

Complete  Emancipation  in  the  Pure  Gothic  112 

Interior  Construction  of  the  Cathedral  115 

Exterior  Construction  of  the  Cathedral  126 

The  Psychology  of  Scholasticism  133 

The  Psychology  of  Mysticism  137 

Individuality  and  Personality  143 


(11) 


) 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


Virgin  and  Child  Frontispiece 

Plate  Page 

I.  Amiens  Cathedral  15 

II.  Examples  of  Paleolithic  Design  30 


III.  A.  Prehistoric  Stone  Figure  found  in  Georgia 

B.  Tattooed  Head  Vase  from  Pecan  Point,  Arkansas 

C,  D.  Pre-dynastic  Egyptian  Pottery  with  Geometric 


Designs  32 

IV.  Head  of  Aphrodite.  Fourth  Century,  B.  C 36 


V.  A.  Greek  Mirror  Cover  with  Plant  Ornament.  Fifth 
Century,  B.  C. 

B.  Chryselephantine  Snake  Goddess.  Late  Minoan 

C.  Dipylon  Vase 38 

VI.  A.  Perseus  Slaying  the  Medusa.  Metope  from  Selinus 

B.  Hercules  Pursuing  the  Centaurs.  Frieze  from  Assos 

C.  Boston  Counterpart  of  the  Ludovisi  Throne,  so- 


called  44 

VII.  A.  Animal  Ornament  from  a Viking  Ship 

B.  Gothic  Gargoyle 

C.  Gargoyles  of  Notre-Dame,  Paris  46 

VIII.  A,  B.  Examples  of  Interlace  Ornament.  Merovingian 

C.  “Tunc”  from  the  Book  of  Kells  48 


IX.  A.  Wood-Carving  with  Rotating-Wheel  Ornament. 
Late  Gothic 

B,  C,  D.  Examples  of  Zoomorphic  Ornament.  Merovin- 


gian   52 

X.  A,  B,  C.  Examples  of  Zoomorphic  Ornament.  Merovin- 
gian   56 


XI.  A.  Death  and  the  Cardinal.  Engraving  by  Holbein 


B.  Prophet.  Late  Gothic 

C.  Square  Pillar.  Romanesque  62 

XII.  A.  Temple  of  Neptune,  Paestum 

B.  Erechtheum,  Athens  78 

(13) 


14 


Illusteations. 


XIII.  Woolworth  Building,  New  York  88 

XIV.  A.  Plant  and  Animal  Ornament.  Merovingian 

B.  Porta  Nigra,  Trier 

C.  S.  Apollinare  in  Classe 

XV.  Judith  with  the  Head  of  Holofernes.  Painting  by  Lucas 

Cranach,  the  Elder  92 

XVI.  Virgin  and  Child  with  St.  Anne.  Painting  by  Al- 
brecht Diirer 94 

XVII.  Mexico  Cathedral  96 

XVIII.  Abbey  Church,  Maria  Laach  98 

XIX.  Pantheon,  Rome  104 

XX.  A.  Notre-Dame-Du-?ort,  Clermont-Ferrand 

B.  La  Chapelle  St.  Mesmin 106 

XXL  A.  Trinity  Church,  Boston 

B.  Modena  Cathedral  110 

XXII.  Salisbury  Cathedral  112 

XXIII.  A.  S.  Maria  Maggiore,  Rome 

B.  Modena  Cathedral 

C.  S.  Apollinare  in  Classe 

D.  Ulm  Cathedral  116 

XXIV.  Ulm  Cathedral  118 

XXV.  Beauvais  Cathedral  128 

XXVI.  Ulm  Cathedral  130 

XXVII.  A.  Pinnacle  Tip  of  La  Sainte  Chapelle,  Paris 

B.  Late  Gothic  Capital  132 


■■-i? 


Pi. ATE  I. 


Amiens  Catiiedieil 


Introduction 


historian’s  feverish  effort  to  reconstruct  the 
mind  and  soul  of  past  times  out  of  the  material 
of  transmitted  matters  of  fact  remains,  in  the  last 
analysis,  an  attempt  with  unfit  means.  For,  after  all, 
the  channel  of  historical  knoAvledge  is  our  ego,  tem- 
porally conditioned  and  restricted  even  though  we  try 
ever  so  hard  to  screw  it  back  into  an  ostensible  ob- 
jectivity. So  far  to  liberate  ourselves  from  our  own 
temporal  conditions  and  so  far  to  master  the  intimate 
conditions  of  the  epochs  of  the  past  that  we  actually 
think  with  their  mind  and  feel  with  their  soul — in  that 
we  shall  never  sujcceed.  We  remain,  rather,  with  our 
powers  of  historical  comprehension  and  cognition  closely 
bound  within  the  confines  of  our  inner  structure,  which 
is  limited  by  temporal  circumstances.  And  the  more 
clear-sighted,  the  more  sensitive  a historical  scholar 
is,  the  more  severely  does  he  suffer  from  ever  re- 
current attacks  of  paralyzing  resignation  at  the  con- 
sciousness that  the  7cpu>~nv  ii’sddo^  of  all  history  is  that 
we  comprehend  and  evaluate  the  things  of  the  past, 
not  in  terms  of  their  past,  but  in  terms  of  our  present, 
values. 

The  representatives  of  naive  historical  realism  are 
strangers  to  these  doubts.  Without  scruple  they  exalt 
the  relative  conditions  of  their  momentary  humanity 
to  absolute  conditions  of  all  times,  and,  as  it  were,  out 
of  the  narrowness  of  their  historic  sense  derive  the 
privilege  of  consistent  falsification  of  history.  “Those 
naive  historians  apply  the  term  objectivity  to  the  mea- 
surement of  past  thought  and  action  by  the  standard 
of  the  vulgar  notions  of  the  moment.  In  this  they  find 
the  canon  of  all  truth.  Their  work  is  to  adapt  the 
past  to  the  trivial  spirit  of  their  age.  On  the  other 
hand,  they  term  subjective  every  historical  writing  that 
does  not  accept  those  popular  opinions  as  canonical” 
(Nietzsche). 


(15) 


16 


Form  Problems  of  the  Gothic. 


As  soon  as  the  historian  aspires  beyond  bare  col- 
lection of  material  and  establishment  of  historical  facts 
to  interpretation  of  these  facts,  mere  empiricism  and 
induction  no  longer  suffice  him.  He  must  here  entrust 
himself  to  his  power  of  divination.  His  procedure  is 
now,  given  lifeless  historical  material,  to  infer  the 
immaterial  conditions  to  which  this  owes  its  origin. 
That  constitutes  an  inference  leading  into  the  un- 
known, the  unknowable,  one  for  which  there  is  nothing 
but  an  intuitive  basis. 

Who,  however,  will  venture  into  this  uncertain 
field?  Who  will  have  the  courage  to  proclaim  the 
right  to  hypotheses,  to  speculation?  Everyone  who  has 
suffered  from  the  deficiencies  of  historical  realism;  ev- 
eryone who  has  felt  the  bitterness  of  the  dilemma:  ei- 
ther to  rest  content  in  a certainty  Avhich  flaunts  itself  as 
the  certainty  of  objectivity  and  which  in  reality  is  to  he 
attained  only  through  one-sided  subjective  violence  to 
objective  facts,  or  to  give  up  this  pretended  certainty 
and  be  guilty  of  depised  speculation,  which  gives  him  at 
least  a clear  conscience,  because  he  has  got  out  of  the 
rut  of  innate  relative  ideas  as  far  as  humanly  pos- 
sible, and  because  he  has  reduced  the  measure  of  his 
temporal  limitations  down  to  an  ineradicable  residue. 
Under  stress  of  this  dilemma  he  will  prefer  the  con- 
scious uncertainty  of  intuitively  guided  speculation  to 
the  uncertain  consciousness  of  the  alleged  objective 
method. 

To  be  sure,  hypotheses  are  not  synonymous  Avith 
capriciou|S  fancies.  Eather,  by  hypotheses  is  meant 
in  this  connection  only  the  ambitious  experiments  of 
the  instinctive  love  of  knoAvledge.  Into  the  darkness 
of  such  facts  as  are  no  longer  to  be  understood  in 
terms  of  our  own  times  this  instinct  has  the  power 
to  press  forward  only  by  carefully  constructing  a 
diagram  of  possibilities  with  its  chief  points  of  orienta- 
tion formed  by  poles  directly  opposite  ourseHes.  Since 
the  instinct  knows  that  all  knowledge  is  bnt  mediate — 
bound  to  the  temporally  limited  ego — there  is  for  it 
no  possibility  of  broadening  its  capacity  for  historical 
knowledge  except  by  broadening  its  ego.  Now  such 


Introduction. 


17 


an  extension  of  the  plane  of  knowledge  is  not  possible 
in  reality,  but  only  through  the  expedient  of  of  an  ideal 
au'xiliary  construction,  which  is  plotted  purely  antitheti- 
cally. Into  the  boundless  space  of  history  we  build  out 
from  the  firm  standpoint  of  our  positive  ego  an  ex- 
tended plane  of  knowledge  by  ideally  doubling  our 
ego  through  adding  its  opposite.  For  all  possibilities  of 
historical  comprehension  always  lie  only  in  this  spherical 
surface  stretching  between  our  positive,  temporally  quali- 
fied ego  and  its  opposite  pole,  which  we  get  only 
through  ideal  construction,  and  which  is  the  direct 
antipode  of  our  ego.  To  summon  an  ideal  auxiliary 
construction  of  this  sort  as  a heuristic  principle  is 
the  readiest  way  to  overcome  historical  realism  and 
its  pretentious  myopia.  What  though  the  results  bear 
only  hypothetical  character! 

With  these  hypotheses  we  come  nearer  than  does 
short-sighted  realism  to  the  absolute  objectivity  of 
history,  knowledge  of  which  is  withheld  from  us.  With 
them  we  grasp  that  absolute  objectivity  in  the  largest 
measure  of  which  our  ego  is  capable  and  gain  the  great- 
est breadth  of  view  open  to  us.  Only  such  hypotheses 
can  give  us  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  the  ages  reflected 
no  longer  in  the  little  mirror  of  our  positive,  tempor- 
ally restricted  ego,  but  in  the  greater  mirror  which 
construction  has  augmented  by  all  that  lies  beyond 
our  positive  ego.  At  all  events,  such  hypotheses  con- 
siderably diminish  the  distortion  of  the  historical  mir- 
roring, though  the  whole  matter  is  only  a mere  calcula- 
tion of  probabilities. 

These  hypotheses  signify,  to  repeat,  no  offense 
against  absolute  historical  objectivity,  that  is,  against 
historical  reality;  for  knowledge  of  that  is  indeed 
denied  us,  and  we  term  the  inquiry  concerning  it  a 
vagary  as  justly  as  Kant  characterizes  the  inquiry 
concerning  the  existence  and  nature  of  the  Ding'  an  sicli 
as  a mere  vagary.  The  historical  truth  we  seek  is  some- 
thing quite  other  than  historical  reality.  “History  can  be 
no  copy  of  events  ‘as  they  really  were,’  but  only  a re- 
casting of  what  actually  happened  in  terms  of  the 
constructive  aims  of  knowing  and  the  a priori  cate- 


18 


Form  Problems  of  the  Gothic. 


goiies,  which  make  the  form,  that  is,  the  constitution  of 
this  branch  of  knowledge,  no  less  than  that  of  natural 
science,  a product  of  our  synthetic  powers”  (Simmel). 

The  problematical  character  of  the  so-called  ob- 
jective historical  method  strikes  us  most  sensibly  when 
we  deal  with  those  complex  historical  phenomena  that 
are  chiefly  moulded  by  psychic  forces.  In  other  words, 
the  history  of  religion  and  of  art  sutler  keenly  from 
the  inadequacy  of  our  historical  faculty.  In  the  face 
of  these  phenomena  the  impotency  of  pure  realism  be- 
comes most  obvious.  For  here  we  hamper  all  our 
possibilities  of  knowledge  if  we  try  to  understand 
and  appraise  the  phenomena  solely  according  to  our 
preconceptions.  Here  we  must,  in  the  case  of  each  fact, 
take  into  account,  rather,  the  presence  of  psychic  con- 
ditions that  are  not  our  own  and  that  we  can  approach 
only  by  way  of  prudent  conjecture  and  ivithout  any 
safeguard  of  verification.  The  self-styled  objective  his- 
torical method  identifies  the  conditions  of  past  facts 
with  its  own  conditions ; the  former  are  therefore 
known  and  given  quantities.  To  intuitive  historical 
investigation,  on  the  contrary,  they  are  the  real  object 
of  research,  and  their  approximate  apprehension  the 
one  goal  that  makes  the  labor  of  investigation  worth 
while. 

While  historical  realism,  in  acquainting  us  with  the 
religious  and  artistic  phenomena  of  the  past,  has  fur- 
nished only  information — very  thorough,  to  be  sure — 
of  the  superficial  forms  of  their  appearance,  the  other, 
less  self-satisfied,  method  strives  for  a vital  interpreta- 
tion of  these  phenomena  and  to  this  purpose  alone 
exerts  all  its  synthetic  powers. 


Aesthetic  and  Art  Theory 


TTEEE  an  attempt  Avill  be  made  to  attain  an  mider- 
standing-  of  the  Gothic  on  the  basis  of  its  own 
premises,  though,  to  be  sure,  these  are  disclosed  to  us 
only  by  way  of  hypothetically  colored  constructions. 
We  shall  seek  the  substratum  of  inner  historical 
relations  which  makes  the  expressional  laws  of  the 
formative  energies  of  the  Gothic  intelligible  to  us. 
For  every  aitistic  phenomenon  is  impenetrable  so  long 
as  Ave  have  not  grasped  the  laAv  and  order  of  its  for- 
mation. 

Accordingly,  we  haA’e  to  determine  the  form  Avill 
of  the  Gothic,  that  form  will  Avhich  has  grown  out  of 
the  laws  of  hutiian  history  and  which  records  itself 
just  as  forcibly  and  unequivocally  in  the  smallest 
point  of  Gothic  drapery  as  in  the  great  Gothic  cathe- 
dral. 

Let  no  one  deceive  himself : the  form  values  of 
the  Gothic  harm  hitherto  remained  without  psychological 
explanation.  In  fact,  not  so  much  as  a resolute  at- 
tempt at  a positive  appreciation  has  been  made.  All 
efforts  in  this  direction — for  example,  beginning  with 
Taine  and  his  disciples— confine  themselves  to  tlie 
psychical  dissection  of  Gothic  man  and  the  characteri- 
zation of  his  general  cultural  mood,  without  making 
any  attempt  to  lay  bare  the  orderly  connection  be- 
tween these  points  and  the  outer  artistic  aspects  of  the 
Gothic.  And  yet  genuine  style  psychology  first  begins 
Avhen  form  values  are  revealed  as  the  precise  expression 
of  inner  values  in  such  a Avay  that  all  dualism  between 
form  and  content  vanishes. 

The  world  of  Classical  art  and  of  modern  art 
based  upon  it  has  long  since  found  such  a codification 
of  the  laws  of  its  structure : for  what  we  call  scientific 
aesthetic  is  at  bottom  nothing  but  such  a psychological 
interpretation  of  style  applied  to  the  phenomenon  of 

(19) 


20 


Form  Problems  of  the  Gothic. 


Classical  style.  That  is,  there  is  taken  into  account  as 
presupposition  of  this  phenomenon  of  Classical  art 
that  concept  of  beauty,  the  determination  and  definition 
of  which  is  the  one  and  only  concern  of  aesthetic  in 
spite  of  the  diversity  of  its  methods  of  approach. 
But  because  aesthetic  applies  its  conclusions  to  the 
complex  whole  of  art  and  confidently  pretends  to  ex- 
plain also  those  facts  which  have  quite  other  presup- 
positions than  that  conceiit  of  beauty,  its  utility  be- 
comes injury,  its  sovereignty,  intolerable  usurpation. 
Sharp  distinction  between  aesthetic  and  objective  art 
theory  is  therefore  the  most  vital  requirement  for 
the  serious  scholarly  investigation  of  art.  It  was 
really  the  life  task  of  Konrad  Fiedler  to  establish  and 
champion  this  requirement,  but  the  habit  of  unjustly 
identifying  art  theory  and  aesthetic,  as  had  been  done 
throughout  the  centuries  since  Aristotle’s  time,  was 
stronger  than  Fiedler’s  clear  argiiment.  He  lifted  his 
voice  in  vain. 

The  peremptory  claim  of  aesthetic  upon  the  in- 
terpretation of  non-Classical  artistic  complexes  is 
therefore  to  be  rejected.  For  all  of  our  historical  art 
investigation  and  art  appreciation  is  affected  by  this 
one-sidedness  of  aesthetic.  Where,  in  considering  artis- 
tic facts,  our  aesthetic,  as  well  as  our  idea  (which  runs 
parallel  to  it)  of  art  as  an  urge  toward  the  representa- 
tion of  the  beautiful  in  life  and  of  the  natural,  is  insuffi- 
cient, there  we  appraise  only  negatively.  Either  we  yjro- 
nounce  sentence  upon  all  that  is  strange  and  unnatural 
as  being  the  result  of  not  yet  sufficient  ability,  or  we 
avail  ohrselves— where  the  possibility  of  this  first  in- 
terpretation is  excluded — of  the  questionable  designation 
conventionality , which  expression  with  its  positive  color- 
ing so  comfortably  veils  the  actual  negative  appraisal. 

That  aesthetic  has  been  able  to  carry  off  this 
peremptory  claim  to  universal  validity  is  the  conse- 
quence of  a deep-rooted  error  as  to  the  nature  of  art 
in  general.  This  error  expresses  itself  in  the  as- 
sumption, sanctioned  through  many  centuries,  that  the 
history  of  art  is  equivalent  to  the  history  of  artistic 
ability,  and  that  the  self-evident,  constant  aim  of  this 


Aesthetic  and  Aet  Theory. 


21 


ability  is  the  artistic  copying  and  reproduction  of 
nature’s  models.  The  growing  truth  to  life  and  natural- 
ness of  what  is  represented  has  in  this  way,  without 
further  question,  been  esteemed  as  artistic  progress. 
The  question  of  the  artistic  will  has  never  been  raised, 
because  this  will  seemed,  indeed,  definitely  established 
and  undebatable.  Ability  alone  has  been  the  problem 
of  valuation,  never  the  will. 

Thus,  people  have  actually  believed  that  it  took 
mankind  thousands  of  years  to  learn  to  draw  correctly, 
that  is,  true  to  nature ; they  have  actually  believed  that 
the  artistic  production  takes  shape  from  age  to  age 
only  through  a plus  or  minus  of  ability.  Although  so 
obvious  and  literally  forced  upon  the  investigator  by 
numerous  historical  circumstances,  it  has  not  been 
recognized  that  this  ability  is  only  a secondary  matter, 
which  obtains  its  proper  determination  and  regulation 
through  the  higher,  sole  determining  factor,  the  will. 

Modern  art  research,  however,  can,  as  has  been 
said,  no  longer  keep  from  recognizing  this,  but  must 
accept  as  an  axiom  that  the  past  could  do  all  that  it 
willed  and  that  it  could  not  do  only  that  which  did  not 
lie  in  the  direction  of  its  will.  The  will,  which  was 
formerly  undebatable,  accordingly  becomes  the  real 
problem  of  investigation,  and  ability  as  a criterion 
of  worth  completely  disappears.  For  the  fine  dif- 
ferences between  will  and  ability  which  are  actually 
existent  in  the  art  production  of  past  times  can,  as 
infinitesimally  small  values,  not  be  taken  into  con- 
sideration, particularly  as  seen  from  the  great  dis- 
tance of  our  standpoint  they  are  in  their  smallness  no 
longer  to  he  recognized  and  to  be  calculated.  But  what 
we,  in  the  retrospective  study  of  art,  are  always  grasp- 
ing as  difference  between  will  and  ability  is  in  reality 
only  the  difference  that  sujbsists  between  our  will  and 
the  will  of  past  epochs,  a difference  which  it  was  in- 
evitable that  we  should  overlook  because  of  the  as- 
sumption of  the  constancy  of  the  will,  but  whose  ap- 


22 


Form  Problems  op  the  Gothic. 


praisement  and  determination  now  become  the  real  ob- 
ject of  investigation  for  the  analytical  history  of 
style. 

With  such  a notion  there  is  naturally  introduced 
into  the  field  of  the  scientific  study  of  art  a revision 
of  all  values  by  which  incalculable  possibilities  are 
opened  up.  I say  explicitly  “the  field  of  the  scientific 
study  of  art,”  for  the  naive  appreciation  of  art  should 
and  must  not  be  expected  to  hazard  its  impulsive  and 
irresponsible  feeling  for  artistic  things  in  such  by- 
paths of  forced  reflection.  On  the  other  hand,  through 
this  emancipation  from  the  naive  point  of  view  and 
through  this  altered  attitude  toward  the  artistic  facts, 
the  scientific  stn|dy  of  art  first  becomes  actually  pos- 
sible, for  the  formerly  arbitrary  and  subjectively 
limited  estimate  of  the  facts  of  art  historj-  can  only 
now  become  an  approximately  objective  one. 

Up  to  the  present  it  has  been  the  custom,  then,  to 
thrust  the  Classical  art  ideal  into  the  limelight  as  the 
determining  criterion  of  value  and  to  subordinate  the 
total  complex  of  existent  art  facts  to  this  point  of 
view.  It  is  clear  why  Classical  art  should  arrive  at 
this  position  of  preeminence — which,  to  repeat,  it  al- 
ways wall  have  and  must  have  as  far  as  concerns  the 
naive  appreciation  of  art.  For  under  the  assumption  of 
an  unchanging  will  directed  toward  the  true-to-life  re- 
production of  nature’s  models,  the  various  Classical 
epochs  of  art  must  appear  as  absolute  culminations, 
because  in  them  every  discrepancy  between  this  will 
and  the  ability  seems  to  be  overcome.  But  the  truth 
is  that  the  discrimination  of  Avill  and  ability  is  just 
as  imperceptible  for  us  in  their  case  as  in  the  non-Classi- 
cal  epochs,  and  for  us  a particular  worth  attaches  to 
the  Classical  epochs,  merely  because  our  artistic 
will  fundamentally  agrees  with  theirs.  For  not 
only  in  our  mental  development  but  also  in  our  artistic 
development  we  are  descendents  of  Classical  humanity 
and  its  cultural  ideals.  Later,  in  the  course  of  the 
more  exact  characterization  of  Classical  man,  which 
we  are  going  to  take  up  in  order  to  get  standards  by 
which  to  measure  Gothic  man,  we  shall  see  in  what 


Aesthetic  and  Akt  Theory. 


23 


important  essentials  the  constitution  of  the  mind  and 
soul  of  Classical  man  still  agrees  with  the  more  dif- 
ferentiated product  of  evolution  presented  by  modern 
man. 

It  is  clear,  in  any  case,  that  as  the  Classical  art 
epochs  attained  this  preeminent  position,  the  aesthetic 
derived  from  them  attained  corresponding  preeminence. 
Since  all  art  came  to  he  regarded  only  as  a pressing 
forward  toward  Classical  culminations,  it  was  easy 
for  aesthetic,  although  in  reality  only  a psychological 
interpretation  of  the  style  of  the  works  of  these  Classi- 
cal epochs,  to  be  applied  to  the  whole  course  of  art. 
Whatever  failed  to  respond  to  the  questions  formulated 
by  such  aesthetic  was  judged  deficient;  that  is,  it  was 
judged  negatively.  Since  the  Classical  epochs  were 
considered  absolute  culminations,  aesthetic  was  also 
bound  to  win  this  absolute  significance,  and  the  result 
was  that  the  method  of  approach  in  art  history  was 
made  subjective  in  consonance  with  the  modern  one- 
sided Classical  and  European  scheme.  The  understand- 
ing of  non-European  art  complexes  suffered  most  from 
this  one-sidedness.  They,  too,  were  customarily  mea- 
sured according  to  the  European  scheme,  which  sets 
in  the  foreground  the  demand  for  true-to-life  repre- 
sentation. Positive  evaluation  of  these  extra-Euro- 
pean art  complexes  remained  the  privilege  of  some  few, 
who  knew  how  to  emancipate  themselves  from  the  com- 
mon European  art  prejudices.  On  the  other  hand,  as  the 
result  of  increasing  world  commerce,  the  greater  in- 
filtration of  extra-European  art  into  the  European 
field  of  vision  helped  to  make  the  demand  for  a more  ob- 
jective standard  of  measurement  for  the  course  of  art 
prevail  and  to  make  a diversity  of  will  be  seen  where 
before  only  a diversity  of  ability  had  been  seen. 

This  extended  acquaintance  naturally  had  its  re- 
action upon  the  appreciation  of  the  more  limited  course 
of  European  art  and  emphatically  called  for  a re- 
habilitation of  those  non-Classical  epochs  of  Europe 
that  previously  had  received  only  a relative,  that  is  to 
say,  a negative,  consideration  from  the  standpoint  of 
the  Classic.  Most  of  all,  the  Gothic  required  such  a 


24 


Fobjm  Peoblems  of  the  Gothic. 


rehabilitation,  such  a positive  interpretation  of  its 
forms;  for  the  whole  course  of  European  art  after 
antiquity  can  be  reduced  right  down  to  the  concentrated 
adjustment  between  the  Gothic  and  the  Classic. 

Since  previous  aesthetic  has  been  in  a position 
to  do  jrfstice  only  to  the  Classic,  there  ought  to  be  an 
aesthetic  of  the  Gothic,  if  one  is  not  inclined  to  take 
offence  at  this  paradoxical  and  inadmissible  hybrid.  It 
is  inadmissible  because  with  the  expression  aesthetic 
the  idea  of  the  beautiful  immediately  creeps  in  again, 
and  the  Gothic  has  nothing  to  do  with  beauty.  And 
only  poverty  of  our  phraseology,  behind  which,  in  this 
case,  to  be  sure,  hides  a very  sensible  poverty  of 
knowledge,  would  make  us  wish  to  speak  of  a beauty 
of  the  Gothic.  This  supposed  beauty  of  the  Gothic  is 
a modern  misunderstanding.  The  real  greatness  of  the 
Gothic  has  so  little  to  do  with  our  current  idea  of  art, 
which  necessarily  has  to  culminate  in  the  concept 
beautiful,  that  an  acceptation  of  this  word  for  Gothic 
qualities  can  only  lead  to  confusion. 

Therefore,  let  us  shake  the  Gothic  free  from  any 
verbal  connection  with  aesthetic.  Let  us  aspire  through 
the  phychology  of  style  to  such  an  interpretation 
of  the  phenomenon  of  Gothic  art  as  will  make  the 
orderly  relation  between  the  inner  feeling  of  the  Gothic 
and  the  outer  appearance  of  its  art  intelligible  to  us. 
Then  we  shall  have  attained  for  the  Gothic  what 
aesthetic  has  attained  for  the  Classic. 


Art  Study  as  Human  Psychology 


WHEN  we  no  longer  look  upon  art  history  as  a mere 
history  of  artistic  ability,  but  as  a history  of  artis- 
tic will,  it  has  a greater  significance  for  the  general 
history  of  the  world.  Indeed,  its  subject-matter  is  there- 
by advanced  into  so  high  a sphere  of  investigation  that 
it  links  up  with  that  greatest  chapter  in  human  history, 
which  treats  of  the  development  of  the  religious  and 
philosophical  culture  of  man  and  reveals  to  us  the 
true  psychology  of  mankind.  For  variations  of  the 
will,  as  the  visible  outcome  of  which  we  comprehend 
the  style  variations  of  art  history,  cannot  he  of  a 
capricious,  accidental  sort.  Rather,  they  must  stand 
in  an  orderly  relationship  with  the  variations  that 
take  place  in  the  constitution  of  the  mind  and  soul 
of  mankind,  those  variations  which  are  clearly  mirrored 
in  the  historical  development  of  myths,  of  religions, 
of  philosophical  systems,  of  views  of  life.  As  soon  as 
we  have  discovered  this  orderly  relationship,  the  his- 
tory of  artistic  will  falls  into  line  on  an  equal  footing 
with  the  comparative  history  of  myth,  the  comparative 
history  of  religion,  the  comparative  history  of  philos- 
ophy, the  comparative  history  of  views  of  life;  it  takes 
an  equal  place  among  these  great  fundamentals  of  the 
psychology  of  mankind.  And  thus,  then,  this  present 
psychology  of  the  Gothic  style  should  also  become  a 
contribution  to  the  history  of  the  human  psyche  and 
of  its  forms  of  expression. 

Because  of  the  check  that  it  has  suffered  from  the 
one-sided  Classical  and  subjective  judgment  described 
above,  our  study  of  the  artistic  activity  of  man  is  still 
in  its  primitive  stages.  First  of  all,  for  example,  it 
has  not  yet  gone  through  that  radical  transforma- 
tion and  broadening  that  the  study  of  the  mental  ac- 
tivity of  man  owes  to  Kant’s  critique  of  knowledge. 
His  important  shifting  of  emphasis  from  the  study  of 
the  objects  known,  to  the  study  of  the  knowing  itself, 
would  correspond  in  the  field  of  art  study  to  a method 
which  regards  all  artistic  facts  merely  as  the  working 

(25) 


26 


Form  Problems  of  the  Gothic. 


out  of  definite  a priori  categories  of  artistic,  or, 
more  exactly,  of  general  psychic  sensibility,  and  to  a 
method  for  which  these  psychical  categories  that  de- 
termine style  are  the  real  problem  of  investigation. 
Yet  in  more  completely  framing  this  method  one  has 
to  accept  a doctrine  which,  again,  directly  breaks  the 
parallelism  with  Kant’s  critique  of  knowledge,  namely, 
the  law  of  the  variability  of  these  psychical  categories. 
Man  unqualified  can  no  more  exist  for  art  history  than 
can  art  unqualified.  The  two  are  rather  ideological 
preconceptions,  \s'hich  would  condemn  to  sterility  the 
psychology  of  mankind  and  would  hopelessly  suppress 
the  abundant  possibilities  of  understanding  art.  The 
only  constant  is  the  bare  material  of  human  history, 
the  sum  total  of  human  energies ; but  the  combina- 
tions of  the  different  factors  are  inimitably  variable 
and  so  too  are  the  phenomena  resulting  from  them. 

The  variability  of  those  psychical  categories,  which 
has  found  its  formal  expression  in  the  development  of 
style,  goes  forward  in  transformations,  the  order  of 
which  is  regulated  by  that  fundamental  process  of  the 
whole  historical  evolution  of  mankind:  the  checkered, 
fateful  process  of  man’s  adjustment  to  the  outer  world. 
The  incessant  alterations  in  this  relationship  of  man 
to  the  impressions  crowding  in  upon  him  from  the 
surrounding  world  form  the  point  of  departure  for 
all  psychology  on  a grander  scale,  and  no  historical, 
cultural,  or  artistic  phenomenon  is  comprehensible  until 
we  have  put  it  in  line  Avith  this  essential  point  of  view. 


Primitive  Man 


T N order  to  illuminate  not  only  the  position  of  Gothic 
man  in  relation  to  the  outer  world  but  his  result- 
ant psychical  and  mental  character  and,  further,  those 
formal  elements  of  his  art  determined  by  it,  we  need 
some  trustworthy  standards,  some  reliable  units  of 
measurement.  Since  in  its  composition  the  Gothic 
is  an  extremely  complicated  and  differentiated  phe- 
nomenon, we  can  acquire  standards  for  measuring  it 
only  by  first  getting  our  bearings  through  the  inves- 
tigation of  some  fundamental  types  of  humanity.  I 
call  fundamental  types  of  humanity  those  products  of 
historical  development  in  which  a definite  and  relatively 
simple  relation  of  man  to  outer  world  has  been  im- 
pressed in  a clear  and  paradigmatic  way.  Such  great 
model  examples  for  the  history  of  humanity  which 
aid  us  in  understanding  the  less  sharply  pronounced 
or  more  subtly  nuanced  cases  are  primitive  man. 
Classical  man,  and  Oriental  man. 

Primitive  man,  that  is,  primeval  man  anterior  to 
all  experience,  to  all  tradition  and  history,  this  first 
member  in  the  development,  can  be  constructed  only 
hypothetically.  And  to  a somewhat  lesser  degree 
Classical  man  and  Oriental  man,  as  we  exhibit  them, 
are  also  but  imaginary  constructions  of  a broadly  out- 
lined exposition,  in  that  remote  and  organically  dif- 
ferentiated complexities  rich  in  nuances  are  simplified 
or  forced  into  ideal  types.  Such  forcing  is  permissible 
to  historical  analysis  provided  the  result  is  looked  upon 
only  as  a heuristic  element,  that  is,  as  mere  means 
to  an  end,  without  claim  to  value  in  itself. 

Of  early  man  we  have  a false  picture.  He  has  been 
transformed  by  the  poetic  creative  power  of  mankind 
into  a creature  of  paradise,  an  ideal  being.  He  has 
been  made  the  embodiment  of  an  imaginary  postulate 
which  possesses  stronger  vitality  than  does  calm  histori- 
cal reflection.  As  all  metaphysical  and  poetical  creations 

(27) 


28 


Form  Problems  of  the  Gothic. 


of  mankind  are  merely  powerful  and  remarkable  re- 
actions of  the  instinct  of  self-preservation  to  the 
cramping,  depressing  sense  of  human  insufficiency, 
so  the  picture  of  primeval  man,  the  picture  of  the 
lost  paradise  of  mankind,  has  received  its  alluring 
colors  merely  from  human  longing  freeing  itself  from 
all  constraint  in  a mighty  flight  of  fancy.  The  imagina- 
tive life  of  mankind  obeys  a very  simple  law ; it 
lives  on  antithesis.  Hence,  fancj"  places  not  only  at 
the  end,  but  also  at  the  beginning  of  human  history  a 
state  of  felicity  in  which  all  darkness  of  reality  is 
changed  to  gleaming  brightness  and  all  insufficiency 
appears  as  so  much  good  fortune. 

Under  the  pressure  of  a vague  sense  of  guilt 
man  has  interpreted  his  historical  development  as  a 
gradual  process  of  estrangement  between  himself  and 
the  outer  world,  as  a process  of  estrangement  which 
has  caused  the  initial  unity  and  intimacy  to  become  less 
and  less.  In  reality,  the  course  of  development  is  surely 
the  reverse,  and  that  state  of  unity  and  intimacy  at  its 
beginning  has  only  a poetical,  not  a historical  validity. 
We  must  discard  the  picture  of  primeval  man  which 
is  engendered  by  this  poetical  assumption,  and,  ex- 
cluding all  sentimental  elements,  we  must  construct  his 
true  picture  solely  by  subtraction.  And  we  should  not 
shrink  back  before  the  monster  that  then  remains  in 
the  place  of  the  creature  of  paradise. 

Let  us  subtract  from  the  total  sum  of  the  ideas 
that  we  possess  the  enormous  mass  of  inherited  and 
acquired  experiences.  Let  us  reduce  our  mental  wealth 
to  the  few  original  elements  from  which  has  pro- 
ceeded the  cumulation  of  interest  and  of  compound 
interest  that  has  increased  incalculably  in  the  course 
of  milleniums.  Let  us  level  to  its  foundations  the  in- 
finitely refined  and  marvelous  structure  of  continuous 
contributions  passed  down  in  the  course  of  evolution. 
There  then  remains  a being  that  helplessly  and  in- 
coherently confronts  the  outer  world  like  a dumb- 
founded brute,  a being  that  receives  from  the 
phenomenal  world  only  fluctuating  and  untrustworthy 
perceptual  images  and  but  slowly  with  the  aid  of  in- 


Primitive  Man. 


29 


creasing  and  consolidating  experiences  recoins  these 
perceptual  images  as  conceptual  images,  by  means  of 
which  he  gradually  orientates  himself  in  the  chaos  of 
the  phenomenal  world.  The  evolution  of  the  human  mind 
and  soul  we  should  not  comprehend  as  an  increasing  es- 
trangement after  an  initial  state  of  close  intimacy, 
but  as  a slow  wearing  away  of  the  feeling  of  strange- 
ness, as  a slow  growth  of  confidence  through  the  co- 
ordination of  all  ncAV  sense  impressions  to  earlier 
experiences.  Certainly,  at  the  inception  of  the  develop- 
ment there  stands  unmitigated  by  experience  an  ab- 
solute dualism  of  man  and  surrounding  world.  Being 
conffised  by  the  apparent  caprice  and  incoherence  of 
phenomena,  primitive  man  lives  in  a vague  mental  fear, 
a relationship  to  the  outer  world  which  is  only  slowly  dis- 
sipated by  progressive  mental  adjustment,  and  which, 
however,  in  spite  of  this  dissipation,  never  wholly  van- 
ishes ; for  the  traces  of  these  earliest  and  deepest  experi- 
ences cling  to  man  as  vague  remembrance,  as  natural  in- 
stinct. For  so  we  name  that  secret  undercurrent  of  our 
nature  which  we  detect  in  ourselves  as  the  court  of  last 
resort  of  our  feeling,  as  the  great  irrational  substratum 
beneath  the  deceptive  upper  surface  of  the  senses  and 
of  the  intellect,  and  to  which  we  descend  in  hours  of 
deepest  and  most  painful  insight,  just  as  Faust 
descended  to  the  Mutter.  And  the  essential  content  of 
this  instinct  is  awareness  of  the  limitations  of  human 
knowledge,  awareness  of  the  phenomenal  world’s  un- 
fathomableness, which  mocks  all  knowledge  of  the 
intellect.  In  these  depths  of  our  soul’s  consciousness 
still  slumbers  the  feeling  of  the  unbridgeable  dualism 
of  being,  and  before  it  the  whole  deceptive  structure  of 
experience  and  all  anthropocentric  delusion  fall  to 
pieces. 

Because  of  the  relationship  of  fear,  in  which  primi- 
tive man  stands  to  the  phenomenal  world,  the  most 
urgent  need  of  his  mind  and  soul  mujst  be  to  press  for- 
ward to  invariables,  wlfioh  save  him  from  the  chaotic 
confusion  of  the  impressions  of  mind  and  sense. 
The  incalculable  relativity  of  the  phenomenal  world  he 
must,  accordingly,  try  to  recast  into  constant,  absolute 


30 


Form  Problems  of  the  Gothic. 


values.  Out  of  this  need  arise  language  and  art,  and, 
above  all,  the  religion  of  primitive  man.  To  the  ab- 
solute dualism  of  man  and  world  corresponds,  of  course, 
an  absolute  dualism  of  God  and  world.  The  notion  of 
God’s  immanence  in  the  world  can  not  yet  find  a place 
in  this  apprehensive  soul,  besieged  by  unknown  powers. 
Deity  is  conceived  as  something-  absolutely  above  the 
world,  as  a dark  power  behind  things  which  one  must 
conjure  and  propitiate  in  every  way,  and  against 
which  one  must,  above  all,  secure  and  protect  himself  by 
every  contrivable  scheme.  Under  the  burden  of  this 
deep  metaphysical  anxiety  primitive  man  overloads  his 
whole  action  and  behavior  with  religious  concerns.  At 
every  step  he  clings,  as  it  were,  to  religious  precau- 
tionary expedients  and  seeks  through  mysterious  con- 
juration to  render  himself  and  all  that  Ts  dear  and 
precious  to  him  taboo  in  order  to  guard  in  this  way 
against  the  caprice  of  divine  powers;  for  he  personi- 
fies as  such  the  precarious  chaos  of  impressions  that 
deprives  him  of  all  sense  of  peace  and  security. 

His  art  als'o  is  an  issue  of  this  magic  incantation 
in  so  far  as  it  also  strives  to  hold  back  by  means  of 
palpable  invariables  the  caprice  of  the  phenomenal  world 
In  the  free  activity  of  his  soul  primitive  man  creates 
for  himself  symbols  of  the  absolute  in  geometric  or 
stereometric  forms  [PI.  II  and  PI.  Ill,  C].  Confused  and 
troubled  by  life,  he  seeks  the  lifeless,  because  it  is  free 
from  the  turbulence  of  becoming  and  offers  permanent 
stability.  Artistic  creation  means  for  him  the  en- 
deavor to  escape  life  and  its  arbitrariness,  means  the 
establishment  in  perceptible  form  of  a substance  under- 
lying appearance,  in  which  the  caprice  and  transience 
of  the  latter  are  overcome.  He  starts  from  inflexible 
line  with  its  abstract  essence  alien  to  life.  Its  intrinsic 
value,  void  of  expression — that  is,  free  from  every 
idea  of  life — he  senses  dimly  as  part  of  an  inorganic 
order  superior  to  all  life.  To  him  who  is  tormented 
by  the  despotism  of  the  living  and  therefore  changing, 
line  gives  comfort  and  satisfaction,  for  it  is  the  only 
perceptible  expression  he  can  attain  of  the  non-living, 
of  the  absolute.  He  pursues  the  further  geometrical 


ft.  ATE  II. 


Exajeples  of  Paleolithic  Design  {after  Piette) 


t 


% 


Primitive  Man. 


31 


possibilities  of  line,  makes  triangles,  squares,  and 
circles,  arranges  series  of  identities,  learns  the  ad- 
vantage of  regularity— in  short,  creates  a primitive 
ornament,  which  for  him  is  not  pla^^  and  mere  delight 
in  decoration,  but  a table  of  symbolical  invariables  and 
therefore  an  appeasement  of  dire  needs  of  the  soul. 
By  covering  with  these  magic  signs  everything  he 
values,  he  fully  utilizes  the  magical  power,  which,  ac- 
cording to  his  quite  consistent  conception,  these  clear, 
permanent,  absolute  linear  symbols  have.  It  is,  in- 
deed, first  of  all  himself  he  tries  to  make  taboo  by 
ornamental  tattooing  [PL  III,  B].  Primitive  orna- 
ment is  conjuration  to  dispel  that  horror  of  the  in- 
coherent surrounding  world  which  is  as  yet  unmitigated 
by  the  progressive  orientation  of  the  mind,  and  it  is 
evident  that  a wearing  away  of  this  rigid,  abstract 
character  of  art,  this  conjuring  nature  of  art,  runs 
parallel  to  the  progressive  orientation  of  the  mind. 
Since  in  the  Classical  epochs  the  summit  of  this  power 
of  mental  orientation  has  been  attained,  since  in  them 
the  chaos  has  become  a cosmos,  it  is  further  clear  that 
at  this  stage  of  the  historical  development  of  man 
art  has  been  completely  absolved  from  its  character 
of  conjuration  and  may,  therefore,  turn  unreservedly  to 
life  and  its  organic  richness.  The  transcendentalism 
of  art,  the  direct  religious  character  of  its  values, 
thereby  comes  to  an  end.  Art  becomes  an  ideal  en- 
hancement of  life,  where  it  has  formerly  been  con- 
juration and  the  negation  of  life. 

But  not  to  anticipate  the  analysis  of  the  Classical 
feeling  toward  the  world  and  toward  art,  we  return  to 
primitive  man  and  his  art.  After  he  has  provided  him- 
self in  his  linear  geometric  ornament  Avith  a sort  of 
basis  of  invariables,  he  attempts  still  further  to  restrain 
the  tormenting  caprice  of  the  phenomenal  world  by 
seeking  to  fix  for  his  perception  those  single  objects  and 
impressions  of  the  outer  Avorld  that  have  for  him  a 
special  meaning  and  Amine  and  that  fluctuate  and  escape 
him  in  the  variation  of  untrustworthy  sense  impressions. 
Ouit  of  them,  too,  he  tries  to  make  absolute  symbols. 


32 


Form  Problems  of  the  Gothic. 


One  need  only  be  reminded  oi£  the  analogy  to  the,  forma- 
tion of  language. 

Accordingly,  he  extracts  from  the  uninterrupted 
flux  of  events  individual  objects  of  the  outer  world, 
trying  to  get  hold  of  them  by  flxing  them  in  perceptible 
form.  He  frees  them  from  their  disquieting  juxta- 
position, from  their  lost  condition  in  space.  He  reduces 
their  changing  manner  of  appearance  to  the  char 
acteristic  and  recurrent  features.  He  translates  these 
features  into  his  abstract  language  of  line,  assimilates 
them  to  his  ornament,  and  in  this  way  makes  them  ab- 
solute and  invariable  [PI.  Ill,  D].  He  produces  artis- 
tic, that  is,  perceptible,  images  corresponding  to  the 
conceptual  images  of  his  mind,  which  latter  have  been 
incorporated  in  the  forms  of  his  speech  and  which,  in- 
deed, are  also  slowly  framed  reductions  and  elabora- 
tions of  sense  apprehension  and  preserve  the  same 
stenographic,  abstract,  and  invariable  character  in  the 
face  of  the  multitude  of  phenomena. 

For  primitive  man,  therefore,  the  artistic  reduction 
of  the  phenomena  of  the  outer  world  is  bound  to  the 
disembodied,  expressionless  line  and,  in  further  pur- 
suance of  its  tendency,  to  the  surface.  For  the  surface 
is  the  given  correlate  of  the  line,  and  only  in  the  sur- 
face lie  tiliie  posstibilities  of  flxing  a conceptual  image 
in  compact,  perceptible  form.  The  third  dimension, 
the  dimension  of  depth,  makes  up  the  real  corporeality 
of  an  object.  That  is  what  offers  the  strongest  resis- 
tance to  grasping  and  fixing  an  object  in  a unified, 
compact  way.  For  it  sets  the  object  in  space  and  there- 
fore in  the  undefined  relativism  of  the  phenomenal 
world.  Suppression  of  corporeal  extension  by  means 
of  the  translation  of  the  dimension  of  depth  into  sur- 
face dimension  becomes  necessarily,  then,  the  first  aim 
of  that  predilection  which  seeks  to  recoin  into  absolute 
and  permanent  forms  what  in  the  phenomenal  world  is 
relative  and  fluctuating  in  space.  Only  in  surface 
representation  has  man  even  in  his  earliest  develop- 
ment possessed  an  invariable  symbol  for  that  which 
is  denied  him  by  the  three-dimensionality  of  the  actual, 
an  invariable  symbol  for  the  absolute  form  of  the 


A.  Pkehistoiuc  Stone  Figure 
found  in  Georgia  (aiter  Wilson) 


B.  Tattooed  Head  Vase 
from  Pecan  Point,  Arkansas 
iU.  S.  National  Museum.  Washington.) 


C.  D. 

Pke-dynastic  Egyptian  Pottery  with  Geo- 
metric Designs 

{Metropolitan  Museum  oi  Art.  New  York) 


.1 


■ ’ 
V , - ^7 


Pbimitive  Man. 


33 

individual  object  of  the  outer  world,  that  is,  for  the 
form  purified  from  all  accident  of  apprehension  and 
from  all  spatial  confusion  with  other  phenomena. 

Primitive  man  is  artistically  active  only  when  he  is 
drawing  or  scratching  in  the  plane.  When  in  addition 
to  this  he  does  sculptural  modelling  in  clay  or  other 
material,  it  is  only  an  issue  of  playful  imitative  in- 
stinct, which  belongs  not  to  the  history  of  art,  but  to 
the  history  of  handicraft.  Imitative  instinct  and 
artistic  creative  instinct,  which  are  here  quite  different 
in  their  nature,  first  blend  at  a much  later  period  of 
evolution,  when  art,  no  longer  hampered  by  any 
transcendency,  has  turned  whole-heartedly  to  the  nat- 
ural. And  as  closely  as  the  actual  borders  upon  the 
natural — without  being  identical  with  it — so  closely  at 
this  later  time  do  imitative  instinct  and  artistic  instinct 
approach,  and  the  danger  of  interchange  becomes  al- 
most unavoidable. 

In  spite  of  the  unique  suitability  of  surface  repre- 
sentation to  the  above-analyzed  artistic  intention  of 
primitive  man,  sculptural  representation  is  not  wholly 
intractable  for  his  artistic  use.  Where,  for  the  sake 
of  the  eternal  character  of  stone,  he  occupies  himself 
with  sculpture,  he  attempts — by  means  of  the  most 
simple  and  unambiguous  demonstration  of  surface  re- 
lations, by  means  of  the  greatest  possible  preservation  of 
cubic  compactness,  by  means  of  few  effects  of  light  and 
shade;  in  short,  by  means  of  a modelling  that  excludes 
all  spatial,  evasive,  chance  aspects — to  overcome  the 
confusion  that  cubic  figures  oppose  to  coherent  ap- 
prehension [PI.  Ill,  A].  An  approximation  to  the  ab- 
stract, cubical  elementary  forms  resujlts  from  this 
stylistic  intention  that  shuns  every  approach  to  life. 
Thus,  again,  the  artistic  representation  of  the  organic 
and  living,  even  in  the  case  of  sculpture,  shifts  into  the 
higher  domain  of  an  abstract,  lifeless  order  and  be- 
comes, instead  of  the  likeness  of  what  is  conditioned, 
the  symbol  of  what  is  unconditioned,  invariable.  But 
primitive  man  can  hardly  be  cited  as  an  example  in  con- 
nection with  this  highest  and  most  complicated  ambition 


34 


Form  Problems  of  the  Gothic. 


of  artistic  instinct  for  abstraction;  not  nnUl  we  come  to 
Oriental  art,  especially  Egyptian,  do  we  find  this  in  its 
highest  form — but  of  that  elsewhere. 


Classical  Man 


The  process  of  adjustment  between  man  and  outer 
world  takes  place,  of  course,  in  man  alone  and 
is  nothing  but  the  adjustment  between  natural  instinct 
and  intelligence  going  on  in  him.  In  man’s  earliest  de- 
velopment natural  instinct  is  still  everything,  intel- 
ligence nothing.  However,  on  the  basis  of  his  waxing 
store  of  experience  and  of  ideas,  man  gradually 
familiarizes  himself  more  and  more  with  the  order  of 
the  world,  and  gradually  the  chaos  of  sense  impressions 
resolves  itself  into  an  arrangement  of  logical  events. 
Chaos  becomes  cosmos.  With  this  growing  mental 
conquest  of  the  world,  vanishes,  as  a matter  of  course, 
the  sense  of  the  relativity  of  phenomena  which  mocks 
all  knowledge.  Instinctive  fear  is  laid  to  rest  by  ex- 
ternal knowledge  and  slowly  wanes  away,  and  while 
human  self-consciousness  approaches  anthropocentric 
arrogance  more  and  more,  the  organ  for  the  deep,  un- 
bridgeable dualism  of  being  atrophies.  Life  becomes 
more  beautiful,  more  joyful;  but  it  loses  in  depth, 
grandeur,  and  power.  For  in  the  increasing  security 
of  his  knowledge,  man  has  made  himself  the  measure 
of  all  things,  has  assimilated  the  world  to  his  trivial 
humanity. 

He  no  longer  looks  at  the  world  as  something 
strange,  unapproachable,  mysteriously  great,  but  as 
the  living  supplement  of  his  own  ego.  He  sees  in  it, 
as  Goethe  says,  the  responsive  reflection  of  his  own 
feelings.  The  vague,  instinctive  critique  of  knowledge 
of  primitive  man  yields  to  a joyous,  self-conscious 
belief  in  knowledge,  and  the  primeval  cold  relationship 
of  fear  between  man  and  world  now  becomes  an  inti- 
mate relationship  of  confldence,  which  liberates  mani- 
fold previously  inhibited  powers  of  the  soul  and  gives 
art  in  particular  an  entirely  new  function. 

At  this  point  of  equilibrium  between  natural  in- 
stinct and  intelligence  stands  Classical  man,  whose 

(35) 


36 


Form  Problems  of  the  Gothic. 


clearest  paradigm  is  Hellenic  man  in  the  ideal  form— 
perhaps  somewhat  beyond  actual  facts — in  which  he 
has  shaped  himself  in  our  imagination.  He  is  the 
monumental  model  example  for  the  second  decisive 
stage  in  that  great  process  of  adjustment  of  man  to 
outer  world,  which  constitutes  world  history. 

With  Classical  man  the  absolute  dualism  of  man 
and  outer  world  vanishes,  and  consequently  the  ab- 
solute transcendentalism  of  religion  and  art  vanishes. 
The  divine  is  divested  of  its  other-worldliness,  it  is 
secularized,  incorporated  in  the  mundane.  For  Classi- 
cal man  the  divine  is  no  longer  something  ultramun- 
dane, no  longer  a transcendental  conception,  but  for 
him  it  is  contained  in  the  world,  embodied  by  the  world. 

Now,  with  man’s  belief  in  immediate  divine  imman- 
ence throughout  all  creation,  with  his  premise  of  world- 
acclaiming  pantheism,  the  process  of  anthropomor- 
phizing the  world  reaches  its  climax.  For  it  is  this  proc- 
ess which  lies  concealed  behind  the  deification  of  the 
world.  The  ideal  unity  of  God  and  world  now  attained  is 
only  another  name  for  the  unity  of  man  and  world,  that 
is,  for  the  fully  accomplished  conquest  of  the  world  by 
mind  and  sense,  which  wipes  out  all  the  original 
dualism. 

The  law  and  order  which  primitive  man,  embryonic 
man,  could  seek  only  behind  things,  only  in  something 
underlying  appearances,  only  in  the  negation  of  the  liv- 
ing, Classical  man  seeks  in  the  world  itself,  and,  since 
man  and  world  are  now  one,  are  now  totally  assimilated 
to  each  other,  he  finds  this  orderliness  in  himself  and  re- 
solutely projects  it  upon  the  world.  Accordingly,  he 
draws  directly  out  of  himself  that  law  and  order 
which  man  needs  so  as  to  feel  secure  in  the  world. 
In  other  words,  there  takes  place  a gradual  process  in 
which  religion  is  replaced  by  science,  or  philosophy. 
For  science  and  philsophy  are  identical  to  Classical 
man. 

What  religion  loses  in  sovereign  importance  and 
power  it  gains  in  beauty.  Supplanted  by  science,  it 
becomes  more  a luxurious  function  of  psychical  activity, 
without  immediate  character  of  necessity.  It  shares  this 


Plate  IV. 


Head  of  Apiikoixte.  Foukth  Centura'.  B.  C. 

[Museum  of  Fine  Arts.  Boston) 


Classical  Man. 


37 


fate,  as  we  shall  see  later,  with  art,  which  for  the  very 
same  reasons  undergoes  a tempering  of  character. 

In  the  case  of  Classical  man  there  prevails  a fine 
supplementary  relationship  between  religion  and  sci- 
ence. Olympics  is  a kind  of  sensuous  correlate  to  in- 
tellectual knowledge.  Science  has  indeed  dislodged 
that  vague,  evasive  mysticism  of  primitive  religion. 
But  with  the  clear  sculptural  quality  of  the  Greek 
Olympus  as  it  has  slowly  and  surely  crystallized  out  of 
the  haze  of  unclear  mystical  conceptions,  science  is  not 
only  compatible  but,  as  we  have  said,  is  directly  sup- 
plemented. Without  that  certainty  achieved  by  sen- 
suous and  intellectual  discernment  the  clear,  sculp- 
tural quality  of  the  Greek  Olympus  is  unthinkable. 
They  supplement  each  other  as  do  concept  and  percept. 
For  to  anthiropomorphization,  as  it  prevails,  along  with 
science,  in  the  field  of  sensuous  and  intellectual  knowl- 
edge, there  corresponds  in  the  field  of  religion  that  cre- 
ative impulse  which  shapes  the  gods  in  human  form 
and  makes  them  ideally  enhanced  men  who  are  dif- 
ferentiated only  quantitatively,  not  qualitatively,  from 
human  beings  [PI.  IV].  Religion  comes  by  degrees 
to  satisfy  only  the  needs  of  perception,  no  longer  the 
direct  intellectual  needs  of  cognition.  It  therefore 
loses  its  intellectual,  non-perceptual,  supersensuous 
character. 

And  now,  as  has  already  been  said,  the  artistic 
development  runs  exactly  parallel  to  this  religious  de- 
velopment. Art  also  loses  its  transcendental,  super- 
sensuous  coloring.  It,  like  the  Greek  Olympus,  comes  to 
be  nature  idealized. 

For  primitive  man,  still  mentally  undeveloped  and 
therefore  uncertain  and  afraid  in  the  face  of  the  chaos 
of  the  world  about  him,  to  create  artistically  was 
synonymous,  as  we  have  seen,  with  the  proclivity  to 
organize  an  ultramundane  world  of  values  in  easily 
perceptible  form,  a world  that  is  elevated  above  all  the 
changing  phenomena  that  are  entangled  in  the  caprice 
of  life,  a world  of  absolute  and  stable  values.  What  was 
living  and  arbitrary  in  his  eternally  fluctuating  sense 
impressions  he  therefore  remoulded  into  ‘ invariable 


38  Form  Problems  of  the  Gothic. 

symbols  of  an  easily  perceptible  and  abstract  sort.  The 
enjoyment  of  the  direct  sense  perception  of  the  object 
was  not  the  point  of  departure  in  the  case  of  his 
artistic  volition;  rather,  he  created  precisely  in  order 
to  overcome  the  torment  of  perception,  in  order  to  gain 
fixed  conceptual  images  instead  of  accidental  percep- 
tual ones.  Art  bore,  therefore,  a positive,  almost 
scientific  character;  it  was  the  product  of  an  immediate 
instinct  of  self-preservation,  not  the  free,  luxurious 
product  of  a humanity  cured  of  all  elementary  dread  of 
the  world. 

In  the  Classical  periods  of  human  development  it 
has  become  this  fine,  imposing,  luxurious  product. 
Classical  man  no  longer  feels  distressed  at  the  relativ- 
ity and  lack  of  clearness  in  the  phenomenal  world,  no 
longer  feels  tormented  by  perception  as  did  primitive 
man.  The  systematizing  and  harmonizing  activities  of 
his  mind  have  sufficiently  restricted  the  capiice  of  the 
phenomenal  world  to  give  free  play  to  his  joy  in  life. 
The  creative  powers  of  his  soul,  released  from  the 
immediate  necessity  of  psychical  self-preservation,  be- 
come free  to  act  with  more  enjoyment  of  actuality, 
become  free  for  art  in  our  sense,  in  which  art  and 
science  are  absolute  antitheses.  As  fear  of  the  world 
becomes  reverence  for  the  world  in  Goethe’s  sense,  so  a 
strong  impulse  to  abstraction  becomes  a lively  impulse 
to  empathy.  Classical  man  devotes  himself  with  all 
his  senses  to  the  phenomenal  world  of  sense  in  order  to 
remould  it  according  to  his  ovm  image.  There  is  no 
longer  anything  lifeless  for  him;  he  animates  every- 
thing with  his  own  life.  For  him,  to  create  artistically 
means  to  hold  fast  in  perceptible  form  the  ideal 
process  of  the  amalgamation  of  his  own  sense  of 
vitality  with  the  living  world  about  him;  he  no  longer 
evades  accidental  appearance,  but  merely  modifies  it 
in  consonance  with  an  organically  smooth  orderliness, 
modifies  it,  in  other  words,  through  the  inherent  counter- 
point of  his  own  sense  of  vitality,  of  which  he  has  be- 
come joyfully  conscious.  Every  artistic  representation 
becomes  then  a quasi-apotheosis  of  this  now  conscious 
elementary  sense  of  vitality. 


Plate  V. 


A.  Greek  Mirror  Cover  with  Plant  Ornament.  Fifth  Century,  B.  C. 
(Metropolitan  Museum  of  Art,  New  York) 


B.  Chryselephantine 
Snake  Goddess.  Late 
Minoan 

(Museum  of  Fine  Arts, 
Boston) 


C.  Dipylon  Vase 

(Metropolitan  Museum  of  Art,  Neic 
York) 


I 


Sf 


■;  ^ 


i' 

i- 


•.i 


*■ 


,{ 


i 


' { . y*  ': 


Classical  Man, 


39 


A sense  of  the  beauty  of  the  living,  of  the  pleasing 
rhythm  of  the  organic  is  awakened.  Ornament,  which 
was  formerly  regularity,  without  expressing  anything 
except  invariability  (that  is,  without  direct  expression), 
now  becomes  a living  movement  of  forces,  an  ideal  play 
of  organic  tendencies  freed  of  all  purpose  [PI.  V,  A]. 
It  is  wholly  transformed  into  expression,  and  this 
expression  is  the  life  that  man  bestows  out  of  his  own 
sense  of  vitality  upon  the  form,  dead  and  meaningless 
in  itself.  Empathy  opens  up  to  Classical  man  the 
enjoyment  of  perception,  which  was  still  withheld  from 
the  mentally  undeveloped  man  who  found  himself  in  his 
first,  rude  and  scanty,  adjustment  to  the  things  of  the 
surrounding  world. 

Thus,  at  this  Classical  stage  of  human  development 
art  creation  becomes  a clear,  ideal  demonstration  of 
now  conscious  and  clarified  vitality;  it  becomes  the 
objectified  enjoyment  of  self.  Purged  of  all  dualistic 
memories,  man  celebrates  in  art,  as  in  religion,  the 
realization  of  a felicitous  state  of  equilibrium  of  soul. 


Oriental  Man 


^ LASSICAL  man,  with  his  well-tempered  mood, 
amounts  to  a culmination  in  the  circle  of  Occi- 
dental culture.  He  sets  the  ideal  standard  of  Occidental 
possibilities.  But  we  must  not  mistake  Europe  for  the 
world,  we  must  not  in  European  self-consciousness 
shut  our  eyes  to  the  phenomenon  of  Oriental  civiliza- 
tion, which  almost  beggars  our  limited  power  of  imag- 
ination. 

For  when  we  confront  Oriental  man,  this  third 
great  model  example  of  human  development,  there  is 
intruded  upon  us  a wholly  new  standard  of  human 
development  that  corrects  our  European  prejudice.  We 
must  recognize  that  our  European  culture  is  only  a 
culture  of  the  mind  and  of  the  senses,  and  that  besides 
this  mental  and  sensuous  culture,  hound  as  it  is  to  the 
fiction  of  progress,  there  is  another,  which  rests  upon 
sources  of  knowledge  deeper  than  the  intellect,  especial- 
ly upon  the  one  most  valuable  source,  natural  instinct; 
we  must  recognize  that  intellectual  knowledge  as 
vain  and  empty,  only  superficial  delusion.  The  culture 
of  the  Oriental  is  built  up  on  natural  instinct,  and  the 
ring  of  evolution  is  closed:  the  Oriental  stands  nearer 
to  primitive  man,  again,  than  does  Classical  man,  and 
yet  there  is  a whole  cycle,  a whole  world  of  develop- 
ment between  them.  The  veil  of  Maya,  before  which 
piimitive  man  stood  in  vague  terror.  Oriental  man  has 
looked  through  and  he  has  come  face  to  face  with  the 
inexorable  dualism  of  all  being.  Awareness  of  the 
problem  of  appearance  and  of  the  unfathomable  riddle 
of  being  is  deeply  rooted  in  his  natural  instinct  and 
precludes  that  naive  belief  in  this  world’s  values,  vdth 
which  Classical  man  felt  happy.  That  happy  amalgama- 
tion of  sensuous  feeling  and  intellectual  knowledge, 
which  led  Classical  man  both  to  sensualize,  or  humanize, 
and  to  rationalize  the  world,  is  impossible  for  Oriental 

(40) 


Oriental  Man. 


41 


man  because  of  the  absolute  predominance  in  bis  case  of 
inner  instinct  over  outer  knowledge.  The  realm  of  the 
Oriental  soul  remains  completely  unaffected  by  the 
progress  of  the  Oriental  intellect,  for  the  two  do  not 
exist  together,  but  only  side  by  side,  without  any  con- 
vertibility, without  commensurability.  Intellectual  knowl- 
edge might  progress  ever  so  far;  but  since  it  lacks 
anchorage  in  the  soul,  it  can  never,  in  the  Greek  manner, 
become  a productive  cultural  element.  All  productive 
culture-creating  powers  are  bound,  rather,  to  instinctive 
knowledge. 

In  the  possession  of  this  instinctive  knowledge  Ori- 
ental man  is  again  like  primitive  man.  He  has  the 
same  dread  of  the  world,  the  same  need  of  deliverance 
that  the  initial  member  of  the  development  had.  But 
with  him  all  this  is  nothing  preliminary,  nothing  yield- 
ing before  increasing  intellectual  knowledge,  as  with 
primitive  man ; it  is  a final  phase,  superior  to  all 
development,  not  prior,  but  superior,  to  intelligence. 
If,  in  contrast  to  Classical  European  man  and  his 
anthropocentric  thought,  the  human  self-consciousness 
of  the  Oriental  is  so  slight  and  his  metaphysical  humil- 
ity so  great,  that  is  merely  because  his  cosmic  sense  is  so 
broad. 

The  dualism  of  the  Oriental  stands  above  intelli- 
gence. He  is  no  longer  confused  and  tormented  by 
this  dualism,  but  he  feels  it  to  be  a sublime  fate,  and, 
silent  and  passive,  he  submits  to  the  great  impenetrable 
mystery  of  being.  His  fear  is  raised  to  respect,  his 
resignation  has  become  religion.  To  him  life  is  no 
longer  confused  and  distressing  madness,  but  it  is  holy, 
because  it  is  rooted  in  depths  that  are  inaccessible  to 
man  and  allow  him  to  feel  his  own  nothingness.  For 
this  sense  of  his  nullity  elevates  him,  because  it  gives 
life  its  greatness. 

The  Oriental’s  dualistically  bound  cosmic  feeling 
is  clearly  reflected  in  the  strictly  transcendental  color- 
ing of  his  religion  and  of  his  art.  Life,  the  phenomenal 
world,  actuality— in  short,  everything  which  was  given  a 
positive  valuation  by  Classical  man  in  his  naively 
happy  world  piety — is  again  consciously  made  relative 


42 


Form  Problems  of  the  Gothic. 


by  the  more  penetrating  Oriental  knowledge  of  the 
world  and  is  subjected  to  a loftier  appraisal  which 
proceeds  from  a higher  reality  lying  behind  all  phe- 
nomena. This  idea  of  a beyond  lends  to  Oriental  meta- 
physics a dynamic  tension  of  which  the  mature  Classical 
world  was  ignorant.  And  as  a natural  and  necessary  out- 
come of  this  psychical  tension  is  framed  the  thought  of 
salvation,  which  thought  is  the  culmination  of  Oriental 
mysticism  and  is  finally  given  in  Christianity  the  stamp 
most  familiar  to  us. 

Oriental  art  is  a similar  outcome  of  a similar  ten- 
sion. It  also  has  absolute  redemptive  character,  and  its 
clear-cut  transcendental,  abstract  coloring  distinguishes 
it  from  all  that  is  Classical.  It  expresses  no  joyous 
approval  of  apparent  vitality,  but  wholly  appertains  to 
that  other  domain  which  looks  beyond  the  time  and 
chance  of  life  toward  a higher  order  that  is  rid  of  all 
false  impressions  and  sense  deceptions,  that  is  domi- 
nated by  necessity  and  permanence,  that  is  consecrated 
by  the  grand  calm  of  Oriental  instinctive  knowledge. 

Like  the  art  of  primitive  man,  the  art  of  the  Orient 
is  strictly  abstract  and  bound  to  the  inflexible,  expres- 
sionless line  and  its  correlate,  the  surface.  Yet  in  rich- 
ness of  forms  and  in  congruity  of  solutions  it  far  sur- 
passes primitive  art.  The  elementary  creation  has 
become  a complicated  artful  structure,  primitivity  has 
become  culture,  and  the  higher,  riper  quality  of  the 
cosmic  sense  is  recorded  in  unmistakable  fashion,  de- 
spite the  external  similarity  of  means  of  expression. 
We  usually  fail  to  appreciate  the  great  difference  be- 
tween primitive  and  Oriental  art,  because  our  European 
eye  is  not  sharpened  for  the  nuances  of  abstract  art, 
and  we  always  see  only  what  they  have  in  common,  that 
is,  only  the  lifelessness,  the  departure  from  nature. 
There  is  actually  present,  however,  the  same  difference 
as  between  the  dull  fetishism  of  primitive  and  the  pro- 
found mysticism  of  Oriental  man. 


The  Latent  Gothic  of  Early  Northern 
Ornament 

A FTEB  we  have  thus  briefly  sketched  in  their  main 
^ lines  three  principal  types  of  human  development, 
that  is,  three  principal  stages  in  the  process  of  adjust- 
ment of  man  to  outer  world,  we  shall  approach  from 
these  fundamental  points  of  orientation  our  proper 
problem,  the  Gothic. 

Let  us  explain  at  once  that  the  Gothic  which  our 
investigation  is  going  to  elaborate  in  terms  of  the  psy- 
chology of  style  in  no  way  coincides  with  the  historical 
Gothic.  This  latter  more  limited  , Gothic,  as  defined  in 
school  usage,  we  take,  leather,  as  only  a final  resultant 
of  a si^ecifically  northern  development  which  sets  in  al- 
ready in  the  Hallstadt  and  La  Tene  periods,  indeed,  in 
its  very  beginnings,  even  earlier.  Northern  and  middle 
Europe  are  preeminently  the  scene  of  this  development; 
its  point  of  origin  is  perhaps  Germanic  Scandinavia 
[PI.  VII,  A]. 

In  other  words,  the  psychologist  of  style,  who,  look- 
ing at  the  mature  historical  Gothic,  has  once  become 
conscious  of  the  fundamental  character  of  the  Gothic 
form  will,  sees  this  form  will  active  underground,  as  it 
were,  even  where  it  is  restrained  by  more  powerful  ex- 
ternal circumstances  and  where,  prevented  from  free 
assertion,  it  assumes  a strange  disguise.  He  recog- 
nizes that  this  Gothic  form,  will  dominates,  not  out- 
wardly, but  inwardly,  Romanesque  art,  Merovingian 
art,  the  art  of  the  barbarian  invasions — in  short,  the 
whole  course  of  northern  and  middle  European  art. 

It  is  really  the  purpose  of  our  investigation  to 
demonstrate  the  justification  of  this  further  extension  of 
the  stylistic  term  Gothic.  In  the  meanwhile  this  asser- 
tion may  be  put  at  the  beginning  merely  as  a thesis 
which  we  are  undertaking  to  establish. 


(43) 


44 


Form  Problems  of  the  Gothic, 


We  repeat,  therefore,  that  according  to  our  view 
the  art  of  the  whole  Occident,  as  far  as  it  has  not 
immediately  participated  in  the  antique  Mediterranean 
culture,  is  Gothic  in  its  inmost  essence  and  remains  so 
up  to  the  Eenaissance,  that  great  turning  point  of  the 
northern  development.  That  is,  the  form  will  immanent 
in  it,  often  scarce  recognizable  outwardly,  is  identically 
that  which  receives  its  clear,  unobstructed,  monumental 
exposition  in  the  ripe  historical  Gothic.  We  shall 
see  later  how  even  the  Italian  Renaissance,  proceeding 
from  wholly  different  psychical  premises,  has,  when  it 
has  encroached  upon  the  north  and  become  the  Euro- 
pean style,  proved  incapable  of  completely  smothering 
the  Gothic  form  will.  Northern  Baroque  is  in  a certain 
sense  the  flaring  up  again  of  the  suppressed  Gothic 
form  will  under  a strange  mask.  So  Gothic  as  a term 
of  style  psychology  extends  further  than  the  school 
term  Gothic  toward  the  present  also. 

The  basis  upon  Avhich  Gothic  form  will  develops  is 
the  geometric  style  as  it  is  spread  over  the  whole  earth 
as  the  style  of  primitive  man  [Pi.  II].  About  the  time, 
however,  when  the  north  enters  into  the  historical  de- 
velopment, this  style  appears  peculiarly  as  the  common 
property  of  all  Aryan  peoples.  Before  we  indicate  the 
development  from  this  primitive  geometric  style  into 
the  Gothic  style,  we  may,  in  order  to  characterize  the 
historical  situation  of  the  Avorld,  recall  that  already 
with  the  Dorian  migration  this  common  Aryan  style 
encountered  the  Orientally  tinged  style  of  early  Medi- 
terranean peoples,  and  that  it  gave  the  impulse  to  the 
specifically  Greek  development.  At  first  the  conflict 
between  the  tAvo  heterogeneous  conceptions  of  style  was 
quite  abrupt:  Mycenaean  style  and  Dipylon  style 
[PI.  V,  B and  C].  Then  it  echoed  more  softly  in  the 
difference  in  character  between  Doric  and  Ionic  styles 
[PI.  VI,  A and  B].  Finally,  the  conciliation  took  place 
in  the  mature  Classical  style  [PI.  VT,  C].  In  brief,  this 
first  offshoot  of  the  Aryan  style  was  entirely  lost  in  the 
Mediterranean  culture;  hence  for  our  study  it  drops 
out  in  advance. 


Plate  VI. 


A.  Pek.seus  slaying  tub  Medusa.  Metope  feom  Selinus 

( Pa  lerm  o M useu  m ) 


B HuicuLKS  puKsui.xG  THE  Cic.NTAriis.  Frieze  fkoim  Assos 
(Museum,  of  Fine  Arts,  Boston) 


C.  Boston  Coxtnterpart  of  the  Ludovisi  Throne,  so-called 

(Museum,  of  Fine  Arts,  Boston) 


Latent  Gothici  of  Early  Northern  Ornament.  45 


We  are  interested  only  in  the  conglomerate  of 
young,  still  undeveloped  hordes  of  northern  and  middle 
Europe,  who  were  not  yet  in  contact  with  the  high 
Mediterranean  culture  connected  with  the  Orient,  and 
in  whom  was  developing  upon  the  basis  of  the  general 
Aryan  geometric  style  the  great  future  power  of  the 
Middle  Ages,  the  Gothic. 

In  this  middle  and  northern  European  conglomerate 
of  peoples,  in  this  true  nursery  of  the  Gothic,  we 
would  not  set  forth  any  single  people  as  vehicle  of 
the  movement ; the  fact  that  we  nevertheless  talk  in  the 
following  pages  mainly  of  the  Germanic  development  is 
not  due  to  any  wish  to  uphold  the  fiction  of  race  in  the 
sense  of  Chamberlain,  but  rather  is  partly  for  the  sake 
of  convenience  and  is  partly  due  to  the  consciousness 
that  in  this  northern  chaos  of  peoples  the  distinctions 
of  race  are  at  first  kept  so  much  in  the  background  by 
common  conditions  of  life  and  of  psychical  development 
that  the  adduction  of  a single  people  as  pars  pro  toto  is 
justified.  On  the  other  hand,  this  particular  adduction 
of  the  Teutons  agrees,  to  be  sure,  with  our  view  that  the 
disposition  toward  Gothic  is  found  only  where  Teutonic 
blood  mingles  with  that  of  other  European  races. 
Teutons  are,  accordingly,  not  the  exclusive  promoters 
of  the  Gothic  and  not  its  sole  creators ; Celts  and 
Latins  have  equally  important  share  in  the  Gothic  de- 
velopment. Teutons,  however,  are  probably  the  conditio 
sine  qua  non  of  the  Gothic. 

In  contrast  to  the  exactness  appropriate  to  special 
investigations  we  shall,  accordingly,  within  the  broad 
lines  of  the  purpose  of  our  study,  need  to  pay  less 
painstaking  attention  to  the  differentiation  of  the 
individual  agents  of  the  aggregate  northern  movement. 

The  art  of  this  northern  racial  conglomeration,  at 
the  time  when  it  seems  to  be  waiting  for  its  cue,  the 
fall  of  the  Eoman  Empire,  to  enter  as  principal  actor 
into  the  historical  development  of  the  world,  is  sheer 
ornament.  And  indeed  this  ornament  is  at  the  outset 
purely  abstract  in  character.  All  attempt  at  direct 
imitation  of  nature  is  lacking.  In  speaking  of  early  Teu- 
tonic ornament,  Haupt,  the  authoritative  historian  of 


46 


Folm  Problems  of  the  Gothic. 


Germanic  art,  says:  “In  their  art  there  is  no  represen- 
tation of  the  natural,  neither  of  man,  animal,  nor  tree. 
All  has  become  surface  decoration.  As  far  as  those 
races  are  concerned,  we  cannot,  therefore,  speak  of  a 
strictly  formative  art  in  the  modern  sense;  their  art 
is  anything  but  the  attempt  to  imitate  what  is  before 
their  eyes.”  It  is,  then,  a purely  geometrical  play  of 
line,  but  we  do  not  mean  with  the  expression  play  of 
line  to  attach  the  character  of  playfulness  to  this  kind 
of  art  practice.  On  the  contrary,  after  our  discussion 
of  the  ornament  of  primitive  man,  it  is  clear  that  a 
strong  metaphysical  content  is  inherent  even  in  this 
early  northern  ornament. 

In  the  earliest  times  it  is  not  essentially  different 
from  the  primitive  geometric  style  which  we  called 
common  property  of  all  Aryan  peoples.  On  the 
foundation  of  this  elementary  Aryan  grammar  of  line, 
however,  there  gradually  develops  a particular  language 
of  line,  which  bears  characteristics  that  mark  it  plain- 
ly as  a genuine  Germanic  dialect.  In  the  terminology 
of  the  materialistic  theory  of  art  it  is  the  linear  fantasy 
called  intertwining  band  ornament  or  braid  ornament 
[PI.  VIII].  Wherever  Teutons  were  scattered  by  the 
storms  of  race  migration,  we  find  in  their  graves  this 
unique  and  quite  unmistakable  ornament:  in  England, 
in  Spain,  in  North  Africa,  in  Southern  Italy,  in  Greece, 
and  in  Armenia. 

Lampreeht  describes  this  sort  of  ornament  as  fol- 
lows: “There  are  certain  simple  motives  whose  inter- 
weaving and  commingling  detennine  the  character  of 
this  ornament.  In  the  beginning,  only  the  point,  the 
line,  and  the  band  were  used,  then  later  the  curved 
line,  the  circle,  the  spiral,  the  zig-zag,  and  an  S-shaped 
ornament — truly  no  great  wealth  of  motives ! But  what 
variety  is  attained  by  the  manner  of  their  use ! Now 
we  see  them  laid  parallel,  now  dovetailed,  now  latticed, 
now  knotted,  now  interwoven,  now  even  all  checkered 
through  eacE  other  in  reciprocal  knotting  and  inter- 
weaving. Thus  arise  fantastically  confused  designs, 
whose  enigma  lures  to  puzzling,  whose  course  seems  to 
shun,  to  seek  itself,  whose  components,  endowed  with 


Plate  VII. 


A.  Anijial  Oi!Xa:\iext 
FRoji  A Viking  Ship 
{after  Gustafson) 


B.  Gothic  Gargoyle 
( M etropolitan.  Museum 
of  Art.  Keto  York) 


C.  Gargoyles  of  Notre-Dajie,  Paris 


Latent  Gothic  of  Eaely  Noetheen  Oknament.  47 

sensibility,  as  it  were,  captivate  mind  and  eye  in  living, 
passionate  motion.” 

There  is  a linear  fantasy  here  whose  fundamental 
character  we  must  analyze.  As  in  the  ornament  of 
primitive  man,  the  vehicle  of  artistic  will  is  the  ab- 
stract geometric  line,  which  contains  no  organic  ex- 
pression, that  is,  no  possibility  of  organic  interpretation. 
Now,  while  in  the  organic  sense  it  is  expressionless, 
nevertheless,  it  is  of  extreme  liveliness.  The  words  of 
Lamprecht  expressly  attest  the  impression  of  passionate 
activity  and  life,  expressly  attest  the  impression  of  a 
seeking,  restless  perturbation  in  this  medley  of  lines. 
Since  the  line  lacks  all  organic  timbre,  its  expression 
of  life  must  be  an  expression  unconnected  with  organic 
life.  The  thing  is  to  understand  the  peculiar  nature  of 
this  super-organic  expressiveness. 

We  see  that  the  northern  ornament,  despite  its 
abstract  linear  character,  sets  free  impressions  of  life, 
which  our  feeling  of  vitality,  bound  as  it  is  to  empathy, 
would  impute  immediately  only  to  the  organic  world. 
So  it  would  seem  that  this  ornament  [PI.  VIII]  unites 
the  abstract  character  of  primitive  geometric  ornament 
[PI.  II]  and  the  living  character  of  Classical  organically 
tinged  ornament  [PI.  V,  A].  Such  is,  however,  not  the 
case.  It  can  by  no  means  raise  the  claim  of  present- 
ing a synthesis,  a union,  of  these  fundamental  antitheses. 
It  deserves,  rather,  only  the  name  of  a hybrid  phenome- 
non. It  is  not  a question  here  of  a harmonious  comming- 
ling of  two  opposing  tendencies,  but  of  an  unclear  and, 
to  a certain  degree,  uncanny  amalgamation  of  them,  of 
drawing  upon  our  power  of  empathy,  which  is  bound  to 
organic  rhythm,  for  an  abstract  world  foreign  to  it. 
Our  organically  tempered  sense  of  vitality  shrinks  back 
before  this  senseless  violence  of  expression  as  before  a 
debauchery.  But  when  finally,  yielding  to  compulsion, 
it  lets  its  energies  flow  into  these  lines,  dead  in  them- 
selves, it  feels  itself  torn  away  in  an  unheard-of  man- 
ner and  raised  to  a frenzy  of  movement  which  far 
outstrips  all  possibilities  of  organic  movement.  The  pa- 
thos of  movement  inherent  in  this  vitalized  geometiw — a 
prelude  to  the  vitalized  mathematics  of  Gothic  architec- 


4-8 


Form  Problems  op  the  Gothic. 


ture — forces  our  sensibility  to  an  unnatural  feat  of 
strength.  Once  the  natural  bounds  of  organic  motion  are 
broken  through,  there  is  no  stopping;  again  and  again 
the  line  is  broken,  again  and  again  checked  in  the  natural 
direction  of  its  movement,  again  and  again  violently 
prevented  from  running  out  quietly,  again  and  again  di- 
verted to  new  complications  of  expression,  so  that,  inten- 
sified through  all  these  restraints,  it  yields  its  utmost  of 
expressive  power,  until  finally,  robbed  of  all  possibili- 
ties of  natural  satisfaction,  it  comes  to  an  end  in  in- 
tricate contortions,  or  disconsolately  breaks  off  in  va- 
cancy, or  senselessly  runs  back  into  itself. 

Confronted  with  the  organic  clearness  and  modera- 
tion of  Classical  ornament,  we  are  under  the  impression 
that  it  springs  without  restraint  from  our  sense  of 
vitality.  It  has  no  expression  beyond  that  which  we 
give  it.  The  expression  of  northern  ornament,  on  the 
other  hand,  is  not  immediately  dependent  upon  us ; 
here  we  face,  rather,  a life  that  seems  to  be  independent 
of  us,  that  makes  exactions  upon  us  and  forces  upon 
us  an  activity  that  we  submit  to  only  against  our 
will.  In  short,  the  northern  line  is  not  alive  because  of 
an  impression  that  we  voluntarily  impute  to  it,  but 
it  seems  to  have  an  inherent  expression  which  is 
stronger  than  our  life. 

This  inherent  expression  of  northern,  that  is, 
Gothic,  line,  which  in  a strict  iisychological  sense  is 
of  course  only  apparent,  we  must  try  to  comprehend 
more  exactly.  Let  us  start  from  commonplace  ex- 
periences of  everyday  life.  If  we  pick  up  a pencil  and 
make  line  scrawls  on  paper,  we  can  already  sense  the 
difference  between  the  expression  dependent  upon  us 
and  the  individual  expression  of  the  line  seemingly  not 
dependent  upon  us. 

When  we  draw  the  line  in  fine  round  curves,  we  in- 
voluntarily accompany  the  movement  of  our  wrist  with 
our  inner  feeling.  We  feel  with  a certain  pleasant  sensa- 
tion how  the  line  almost  grows  out  of  the  spontaneous 
play  of  the  wrist.  The  movement  we  make  is  of  an 
unobstructed  facility ; the  impulse  once  given,  move- 
ment goes  on  without  effort.  This  pleasant  feeling. 


Plate  VIII. 


A. 


B. 

Exajiples  of  Iatekl.vce  Ohnajieat.  Merovixgi.vx 
[Metropolitan  Museum  of  Art,  Netv  York) 


C.  “Tunc”  from  the  Book  of  Kells 
(Library  of  Trinity  College.  Dublin) 


Latent  Gothic  op  Early  Noeti-iern  Ornament.  49 

this  freedom  of  creation,  we  transfer  now  involuntarily 
to  the  line  itself,  and  what  we  have  felt  in  executing  it 
we  ascribe  to  it  as  expression.  In  this  case,  then,  we 
see  in  the  line  the  expression  of  organic  beauty  just 
because  the  execution  corresponded  with  our  organic 
sense.  If  we  meet  such  a line  in  another  production, 
our  impression  is  the  same  as  if  we  had  drawn  it  our- 
selves. For  as  soon  as  we  become  conscious  of  any 
kind  of  line,  we  inwardly  follow  out  involuntarily  the 
process  of  its  execution. 

Besides  this  organic  expressive  power  of  line, 
which  we  experience  in  all  Classical  ornament,  there  is, 
however,  another,  and  it  is  the  one  that  comes  into  con- 
sideration for  our  Gothic  problem.  Again  we  may 
start  from  the  familiar  experiences  of  playful  line 
scrawls.  If  we  are  filled  with  a strong  inward  excite- 
ment that  we  may  express  only  on  paper,  the  line 
scrawls  will  take  an  entirely  different  turn.  The  will 
of  our  wrist  will  not  be  consulted  at  all,  but  the  pencil 
will  travel  wildly  and  impetuously  over  the  paper,  and 
instead  of  the  beautiful,  round,  organically  tempered 
curves,  there  will  result  a stiff,  angular,  repeatedly  in- 
terrupted, jagged  line  of  strongest  expressive  force.  It  is 
not  the  wrist  that  spontaneously  creates  the  line ; but  it 
is  our  impetuous  desire  for  expression  which  imperious- 
ly prescribes  the  wrist’s  movement.  The  impulse  once 
given,  the  movement  is  not  allowed  to  run  its  course 
along  its  natural  direction,  but  it  is  again  and  again  over- 
whelmed by  new  impulses.  When  we  become  conscious  of 
such  an  excited  line,  we  inwardly  follow  out  involuntar- 
ily the  process  of  its  execution,  too.  Now,  this  following 
out,  however,  is  not  accompanied  by  any  pleasure,  but  it 
is  as  if  an  outside  dominant  will  coerced  us.  We  are  made 
aware  of  all  the  suppressions  of  natural  movement. 
We  feel  at  every  point  of  rupture,  at  every  change  in 
direction,  how  the  forces,  suddenly  checked  in  their 
natural  course,  are  blocked,  how  after  this  moment  of 
blockade  they  go  over  into  a new  direction  of  move- 
ment with  a momentum  augmented  by  the  obstruction. 
The  more  frequent  the  breaks  and  the  more  obstructions 
thrown  in,  the  more  powerful  becomes  the  seething  at 


50 


Form  Problems  oe  the  Gothic. 


the  individual  interruptions,  the  more  forceful  be- 
comes each  time  the  surging  in  the  new  direction,  the 
more  mighty  and  irresistible  becomes,  in  other  words, 
the  expression  of  the  line.  For  here,  too,  in  apperception 
Ave  ascribe  to  the  line  as  expression  the  processes  of 
executing’  it  that  we  inwardly  follorv  out.  And  since 
the  line  seems  to  thrust  its  expression  upon  us,  we  feel 
this  to  be  something  autonomous,  independent  of  us, 
and  Ave  speak,  therefore,  of  an  inherent  expression  of 
the  line. 

The  essence  of  this  inherent  expression  of  the  line 
is  that  it  does  not  stand  for  sensuous  and  organic 
values,  but  for  values  of  an  unsensuous,  that  is,  spiritual 
sort.  No  activity  of  organic  will  is  expressed  by  it, 
but  activity  of  psychical  and  spiritual  Avill,  which  is 
still  far  from  all  union  and  agreement  Avith  the  com- 
plexes of  organic  feeling. 

Now,  by  this  statement  we  do  not  mean  to  say  that 
the  northern  ornament,  that  “almost  primeA’al  and 
darkly  chaotic  jumble  of  lines”  (Semper),  stands  on  a 
par  Avith  the  line  scraAvls  of  an  emotionally  or  mentally 
excited  man,  nor  that  it  reflects  even  in  a.  general  way, 
this  phenomenon  of  everyday  experience.  That  AA'Ould 
be  a comparison  betAveen  Avholly  incommensurable  en- 
tities. Nevertheless,  this  comparison  will  offer  us  sug- 
gestions. As  those  line  scraAvls  seem  merely  the  re- 
lease of  an  inner  spiritual  pressure,  so  the  excitement, 
the  convulsiveness,  the  feA’er,  of  northern  clraAving  un- 
questionably throws  a flashlight  upon  the  heavily  op- 
pressed inner  life  of  northern  humanity.  By  this  com- 
parison, at  all  eA’ents,  we  may  make  sure  of  the  ex- 
pression of  a spiritual  unrest  in  northern  ornament. 
But  what  is  playful  line  scraAvling  in  the  eA’eryday  life 
of  the  indiAudual  is  something  else  in  the  art  expression 
of  a Avhole  race.  In  the  latter  case  it  is  the  longing 
to  be  absorbed  in  an  unnatural  intensified  actiAuty  of  a 
non-sensuous,  spiritual  sort — one  should  remember  in 
this  connection  the  labyrinthie  scholastic  thinking — in  or- 
der to  get  free,  in  this  exaltation,  from  the  pressing  sense 
of  the  constraint  of  actuality.  And,  let  it  be  said  in  ad- 
Amnce,  this  longing  for  an  activity,  non-sensuous  and 


Latent  Gothic  of  Early  Northern  Ornament.  51 

elevated  above  all  sense,  or,  to  choose  the  more  exact 
word,  superseiisuous,  this  longing  which  created  such 
ornament  lashed  into  the  utmost  expressiveness,  was 
what  gave  rise  to  the  fervent  sublimity  of  the  Gothic 
cathedral,  that  transcendentalism  in  stone. 

As  Gothic  architecture  presents  the  picture  of  a 
complete  dematerialization  of  the  stone  and  is  full  of 
spiritual  expression  not  bound  by  stone  and  sense,  so 
early  northern  ornament  offers  the  picture  of  a com- 
plete degeometrization  of  the  line  for  the  sake  of  the 
same  exigencies  of  spiritual  expression. 

The  line  of  primitive  ornament  is  geometric,  is 
dead  and  expressionless  [PI.  Ill,  C].  Its  artistic 
significance  rests  simply  and  solely  upon  this  absence 
of  all  life,  rests  simply  and  solely  upon  its  thoroughly 
abstract  character.  With  the  abatement  of  the  original 
dualism  between  man  and  world,  that  is,  with  the  mental 
development  of  man,  the  abstract  geometrical  char- 
acter of  the  line  is  gradually  weakened.  This  weakening, 
this  transition  of  the  stiff,  expressionlessness  into  ex- 
pressiveness can  proceed  in  two  different  directions.  In 
place  of  the  dead  geometric  modality  can  arise  an 
organic  vitality  agreeable  to  the  senses — that  is  the 
case  with  Classical  ornament  [PI.  V,  A].  Or  there  can 
arise  a spiritual  vitality,  far  transcending  the  senses — 
that  is  the  case  with  early  northern  ornament  [PI.  VIII], 
the  Gothic  character  of  which  is  immediately  indicated 
by  this  observation.  And  it  is  evident  that  the 
organically  determined  line  contains  beauty  of  ex- 
pression, while  power  of  expression  is  reserved  for  the 
Gothic  line.  This  distinction  between  beauty  of  .ex- 
pression and  power  of  expression  is  immediately  ap- 
plicable to  the  whole  character  of  the  two  stylistic 
phenomena  of  Classic  and  Gothic  art. 


The  Infinite  Melody  of  Northern  Line 


The  antithesis  between  Classical  ornament  and 
northern,  or  Gothic,  ornament  needs  further  and 
deeper  consideration.  The  fundamentally  dissimilar 
character  of  these  two  manifestations  of  art  shall  also 
be  explained  in  detail.  The  first  thing  that  is  noticed  in 
the  comparison  of  the  two  styles  of  ornament  is  that 
northern  ornament  lacks  the  concept  of  symmetry  so 
innate  in  all  Classical  ornament.  Instead  of  symmetry, 
repetition  dominates  [PI.  IX,  A and  B].  To  be  sure,  in 
Classical  ornament  repetition  of  individual  motives  does 
play  a role;  but  this  repetition  is  of  an  entirely  dif- 
ferent cast  [PL  V,  A and  PI.  VI,  C].  Classical  orna- 
ment generally  inclines  to  repeat  in  countersense,  as  in 
a mirror,  the  motive  once  struck,  whereby  the  char- 
acter of  uninterrupted  progression  produced  by  repeti- 
tion is  paralyzed.  From  this  repetition  in  counter- 
sense results  a quiescence,  a completion  of  the  rhythm ; 
the  juxtaposition  has  the  calm  character  of  addition 
that  never  mars  the  symmetry.  The  organically  guided 
sensibility  of  Classical  man  furnishes  to  the  move- 
ment, arising  from  repetition  and  threatening  to  ex- 
ceed the  organic  and  to  become  mechanistic,  repeated 
rest  accents  by  forming  pauses.  That  checks,  as  it 
were,  the  hastening  mechanical  activity  by  means  of 
this  repetition  in  countersense  which  is  demanded  by 
organic  feeling. 

In  the  case  of  northern  ornament,  on  the  other 
hand,  the  repetition  does  not  have  this  quiet  character 
of  addition,  but  has,  so  to  speak,  the  character  of  multi- 
plication. No  desire  for  organic  moderation  and  rest 
intervenes  here.  A constantly  increasing  activity  with- 
out pauses  and  accents  arises,  and  the  repetition  has 
only  the  one  intention  of  raising  the  given  motive  to 
the  power  of  infinity.  The  infinite  melody  of  line  hovers 
before  the  vision  of  northern  man  in  his  ornament, 
that  infinite  line  which  does  not  delight  but  stupefies 

(52) 


Plate  IX. 


A.  Wood-Carvixg  with  Rotating-Wiieel  Orxameat.  Late  Gothic 

{Museum  of  Fine  Arts.  Boston) 


B. 


Examples  of  Zoojiorphic  Ornaaient.  Mekovingi.vn 
(Metropolitan  Museum  of  Art.  New  York) 


The  Infinite  Melody  of  Nobthebn  Line. 


53 


and  compels  us  to  yield  to  it  without  resistance.  If  we 
close  our  eyes  after  looking  at  northern  ornament,  there 
remains  only  the  echoing  impression  of  incorporeal 
endless  activity. 

Lamprecht  speaks  of  the  enigma  of  this  northern 
intertwining  hand  ornament,  Avhich  one  likes  to  puzzle 
over  [PI.  VIII].  But  it  is  more  than  enigmatic;  it 
is  labyrinthic.  It  seems  to  have  no  beginning  and  no 
end,  and  especially  no  center;  all  those  possibilities 
of  orientation  for  organically  adjusted  feeling  are 
lacking.  We  find  no  point  where  we  can  start  in,  no 
point  where  we  can  pause.  Within  this  infinite  activity 
every  point  is  equivalent  and  all  together  are  insignifi- 
cant compared  with  the  agitation  reproduced  by  them. 

We  have  already  said  that  the  endless  activity  of 
northern  ornament  is  the  same  as  that  which  Gothic  ar- 
chitecture later  wins  from  the  dead  masses  of  stone,  and 
this  identification  is  only  corroborated,  only  fuTther  ex- 
plained, by  the  statement  of  a ditference.  For,  while 
the  impression  of  the  endless  line  would  only  be  at- 
tained by  having  it  really  come  to  no  visible  end — that 
is,  by  having  it  senselessly  return  into  itself— in  archi- 
tecture the  impression  of  endless  movement  results 
from  the  exclusive-  accentuation  of  the  vertical  [PI. 
XXII]. 

In  view  of  this  movement  converging  from  all  sides 
and  vanishing  upwards,  the  actual  termination  of  the 
movement  at  the  extreme  point  of  the  tower  is  not 
to  be  considered:  the  movement  reechoes  to  infinity. 
In  this  case  the  vertical  accentuation  offers  indirectly 
the  symbol  of  endlessness  which  in  the  ornament  is 
given  directly  by  the  line’s  returning  into  itself. 

We  have  therefore  established  in  addition  to  the 
predominantly  asymmetrical  peculiarity  of  northern  or- 
nament its  predominantly  acentric  quality,  also.  Yet 
this  only  applies  to  the  general  character;  in  detail  there 
are  exceptions.  Thus,  there  are  a number  of  orna- 
mental motives  in  the  north  that  undoubtedly  have 
centric  character,  but  here,  too,  we  can  ascertain  a 
striking  ditference  from  similar  Classical  designs.  For 
example,  instead  of  the  regular  and  wholly  geometrical 


54 


Form  Problems  of  the  Gothic. 


star,  or  the  rosette  [PI.  VI,  C],  or  similar  motion- 
less  shapes,  in  the  north  are  found  the  rotating  wheel, 
the  turbine,  or  the  so-called  solar  wheel — all  patterns 
that  express  violent  movement  [PI.  IX,  A and  B]. 
And,  furthermore,  the  movement  is  not  radial  but 
peripheral.  It  is  a movement  that  cannot  be  checked 
and  restrained.  ‘‘While  in  its  opposed — negative  and 
positive — centripetal  and  centrifugal  movement  antique 
ornament  neutralizes  itself  and  so  comes  to  absolute 
rest,  northern  ornament  goes  ever  onward  from  a point 
of  beginning,  ever  forward  in  the  same  sense,  until  its 
course  has  described  the  whole  surface  and,  as  a natural 
consequence,  runs  back  into  itself”  (Haupt).  The  differ- 
ence between  the  peripheral  movement  of  the  northern 
ornament  and  the  radial  movement  of  the  antique  is 
therefore  entirely  similar  to  that  between  the  repetition 
in  the  same  sense  and  the  repetition  in  countersense. 
In  the  latter  there  is  quiet,  measured  organic  move- 
ment; in  the  Iformer,  uninterraptedly  accelerated  me- 
chanical movement.  Thus,  we  see  how,  precisely  in  the 
case  of  apparent  relationship  in  the  formations  of 
Classical  and  northern  ornament,  their  distinction  re- 
veals itself  all  the  more  clearly  on  closer  inspection. 


From  Animal  Ornament  to  the  Art  of  Holbein 


in  the  course  of  development,  the  organic 
direction  of  Classical  ornament  gradually  gives  up 
its  generality  and  turns  to  the  particular,  in  other  words, 
that  it  takes  from  nature  unusually  pregnant  embodi- 
ments of  organic  law  as  ornamental  motives,  is  a wholly 
natural,  unconstrained  process.  Instead  of  reproducing 
the  latent  law  of  natural  formations,  the  Classical  artist 
now  reproduces  these  natural  formations  themselves 
[PI.  V,  A],  not  copying  naturalisticallj^  to  be  sure,  but 
completely  preserving  the  ideal  character.  He  presents 
only  ideal  synopses  of  them,  which  suffice  to  display 
the  law  of  organic  structure.  Organic  law  discovers 
itself  to  him  in  such  pragmatic  purity  as  he  wishes 
only  in  the  vegetable  kingdom.  He  finds  in  this  a sort 
of  grammar  of  organic  rules,  and,  clearly,  he  who 
formerly  spoke  only  in  signs,  as  it  were — that  is,  only 
in  organically  turned,  organically  rhythmical  line  de- 
signs— now,  on  the  basis  of  this  natural  grammar, 
learns  to  express  himself  more  directly,  more  fluently, 
more  vividly,  and  more  accurately.  In  short,  the  plant 
motives  of  Classical  ornament  are  a natural  efflores- 
cence of  its  organic  basis. 

The  case  is  different  with  the  animal  motives  of 
northern  ornament  [Pis.  IX  and  X].  They  do  not 
grow  naturally  and  freely  from  the  nature  of  northern 
drawing  but  belong  to  quite  another  world  and  in  con- 
nection with  this  drawing  touch  our  sensibility  in  a 
very  paradoxical  and  inexplicable  way.  Any  comparison 
between  the  nature  of  Classical  plant  ornament  and 
the  nature  of  northern  animal  ornament  is  out  of  the 
question.  Tlieir  genesis,  sense,  and  purpose  arei  funda- 
mentally dissimilar  and  absolutely  incommensurable. 
We  only  need  to  look  at  the  northern  animal  ornament 
somewhat  more  closely  in  order  to  become  conscious  of 
the  peculiarity  of  its  nature,  which  is  not  measurable 
bv  Classical  standards  of  value. 

(55) 


56 


Form  Problems  of  the  Gothic. 


We  stated  at  the  beginning  of  these  remarks  on 
ornament  that  northern  ornament  is  of  purely  abstract 
character  and  contains  no  representation  of  natural 
prototypes.  The  situation  is  not  substantially  modified 
by  the  existence  of  this  animal  ornament.  For  the  latter 
is  not  the  result  of  direct  observation  of  nature  but  con- 
sists of  fanciful  formations  that  develop  more  or  less 
arbitrarily  out  of  linear  fantasy  without  which  they 
have  no  existence.  It  is  a playing  with  memories  of 
nature  within  the  limits  of  this  abstract  art  of  line 
without  any  of  the  intention  of  exactness  peculiar  to 
natural  observation.  Haupt  says:  “The  animal  world 
is  drawn  into  the  network,  not  at  all  as  an  imitation  of 
nature,  but  merely  for  pure  surface  decoration.  The 
animal  displays  a head,  one  or  more  legs,  and  its  body  is 
wound  in  and  out  like  that  of  a snake ; often  made  up 
of  several  similar  animals  agglomerated  into  an  intri- 
cate knotted  ball,  the  design  covers  the  available  field 
just  like  a tapestry,  and  usually  only  a trained  eye  can 
discover  that  there  are  any  animal  forms  present  or  in- 
tended here.  The  uninitiated  sees  the  whole  as  mere 
network.  But  where  at  the  points  and  extremities  real 
parts  of  bodies  do  come  out,  they  are  so  completely 
cut  up  and  decorated  and  hidden  by  lines,  scallops, 
and  the  like  that  one  can  hardly  tell  what  they 
originally  were.  ’ ’ 

This  zoomorphic  ornament  may,  accordingly,  have 
originated  as  follows : in  the  case  of  certain  purely  lin- 
ear formations  the  distant  remembrance  of  animal 
forms  came  to  mind;  for  definite  reasons,  to  which  we 
shall  return  below,  these  memories  were  followed  out  by 
making  the  resemblance  more  noticeable  and  clear, 
either  by  indicating  eyes  with  dots  or  by  something 
of  that  sort.  All  this  took  place  without  compro- 
mising the  purely  abstract  linear  character  of  the 
ornament.  That  it  was  not  the  memory  of  a definite 
animal,  but  only  a general  memory  of  animal  life 
which  was  active  is  proven  by  the  fact  that  elements 
taken  from  most  diverse  animals  were  unscrupulously 
brought  together.  Only  later  naturalization  made  these 
creatures  into  the  familiar  fabulous  animals,  that  were 


Plate  X. 


P. 


C. 


Examples  of  Zoomokphic  Ornament.  Merovingian 
(Metropolitan  Museum,  of  Art.  ISteio  York) 


■:  - v ' ■- 


V N- 


From  Animal  Ornament  to  the  Art  of  Holbein.  57 

fondly  but  unintelligeiitly  taken  over  by  later  ornament. 
These  creations  were  originally  only  the  offspring  of  a 
linear  fantasy^  outside  of  whicli  they  [have  no  existence, 
not  even  in  tbe  imagination  of  northern  man. 

We  were  saying  that  with  these  fabulous  zobmorphs 
there  crept  into  the  abstract  play  of  line  distorted 
memories  of  nature.  Now  that  is  not  quite  exactly  ex- 
pressed. For  this  is  not  a question  of  memories  of 
nature,  but  of  memories  of  actuality.  This  distinction 
is  of  decisive  significance  for  the  whole  Gothic  prob- 
lem. For  the  actual  is  by  no  means  identical  wuth  the 
natural.  One  can  have  a very  sharp  grasp  of  actuality 
without  thereby  coming  nearer  to  nature.  We  recog- 
nize, rather,  the  natural  in  the  actual  only  when  the 
notion  of  the  organic  has  been  born  in  us  and  has  ren- 
dered us  capable  of  active,  discerning  observation. 
Only  then  is  the  chaos  of  the  actual  dissolved  for  us 
in  the  cosmos  of  the  natural.  The  notion  of  organic 
law  can,  however,  become  vital  only  where  a relation- 
ship of  ideal  identity  between  man  and  world  is  reached, 
as  happened  in  the  Classical  epochs.  From  this  re- 
lationship proceeds  automatically  the  clarification  of 
the  outer  world,  for  it  is  empathy,  the  result  of  the 
consciousness  of  identity,  that  modifies  all  the  in- 
articulate sounds  of  actuality  into  fixed,  organically 
clear  word  forms. 

In  his  relationship  to  the  world  northern  man  was 
still  far  from  that  ideal  identity.  The  world  of  the 
natural  was  therefore  still  closed  to  him.  But  actuality 
pressed  upon  him  all  the  more  intensely.  Since  he 
saw  it  with  naive  eyes,  umcultivated  by  any  discern- 
ment of  the  natural,  it  revealed  itself  to  him  in  all 
sharpness,  with  all  its  thousand  details  and  accidents. 
Through  this  sharpness  of  its  grasp  of  actuality  north- 
ern art  differentiates  itself  from  Classical.  The  latter 
evades  the  caprice  of  actuality  and  rests  entirely  upon 
nature  and  her  concealed  orderliness,  and  its  organically 
rhythmic  language  of  line  can  therefore  pass  over 
freely  into  direct  representation  of  the  natural. 


58 


Form  Problems  of  the,  .Gothic, 


Northern  art,  on  the  other  hand,  grows  out  of  the 
combination  of  an  abstract  linear  language  with  the 
reproduction  of  actuality.  The  first  stage  of  this  com- 
bination is  just  what  we  have  in  northern  zoomorphic 
ornament.  The  inherent  expression  of  the  line  and  its 
spiritual,  non-sensuous  expressiveness  were  not  wea;ken- 
ed  at  all  by  this  insertion  of  motives  from  actuality;  for 
in  this  actuality  the  natural,  the  organic,  was  still 
completely  concealed,  and  only  the  admission  of  such 
values  of  organic  expression  would  have  weakened  the 
abstract  character  of  the  drawing.  But  with  values 
of  actuality  this  abstract  linear  character  readily  amal- 
gamated; in  fact,  these  motives  of  actuality  can  even, 
as  we  saw,  involuntarily  evolve  from  this  abstract 
linear  fantasy.  For  what  is  characteristic  in  our  im- 
pressions of  actuality  leaves  its  stamp  in  a linear  ab- 
breviation, the  several  lines  of  which  contain  succinct 
expressive  power  that  far  exceeds  the  function  of  the 
line  as  mere  contour.  This  oscillation  between  the 
characteristic  line  of  actuality  and  the  independent 
line  that  pursues  its  inherent  expression  is  clearest  in 
caricature.  Here  the  summary"  expressive  force  of  the 
single  line  threatens  at  every  moment  to  break  down 
into  something  like  mere  arabesque,  while,  conversely, 
at  the  beginning  of  the  development  the  purely  ab- 
stract play  of  line  tends  readily  to  assume  the  char- 
acter of  actuality. 

Yet  such  accidental  origin  of  suggestions  of  reality 
applies  only  to  the  initial  stages  of  the  development  of 
northern  ornament.  As  the  development  progressed, 
with  the  growing  self-consciousness  of  artistic  ability, 
the  northerner,  like  any  highly  developed  man,  felt  the 
need  of  mastering  the  phenomena  of  the  outer  world 
artistically,  that  is,  of  extracting  them  from  the  great 
fluctuating  phenomenal  sequence  and  of  fixing  them  in 
perceptible  form.  Man’s  path  to  this  artistic  fixing  is 
alike  at  all  times:  translation  of  the  outer  objects  that 
are  to  be  represented  into  the  vocabulary  of  the  form 
will  of  the  time.  This  vocabulary  of  the  form  will 
must  be  established  before  the  artistic  mastery  of  the 
outer  world  is  undertaken.  For  it  is  a priori  to  artistic 


From  Animal  Ornament  to  the  Art  op  Holbein.  59 

work.  We  know  where  the  a priori  form  will  crystal- 
lizes : it  is  in  ornament.  This  fixes  the  a priori  form 
will  in  paradiginatical  purity,  that  is,  becomes  the 
precise  barometer  of  the  relation  in  which  the  par- 
ticular society  stands  to  the  world.  Only  after  the 
grammar  of  artistic  language  has  been  established  in 
this  way,  can  man  go  about  the  translation  of  outer 
objects  into  this  language. 

The  a priori  form  will  of  primitive  man  is  repre- 
sented by  the  expressionless  geometric  line,  that  in- 
variable value  that  stands  as  the  direct  counterpole  of 
all  life  [PL  II].  This  prescribes  the  path  of  his 
artistic  adjustment  to  the  outer  world.  He  translates 
objects  into  this  language  of  a lifeless  geometry.  He 
geometrizes  them  and  thereby  overcomes  their  expres- 
sion of  vitality.  For  him  the  goal  of  art,  as  it  is  set  by 
his  absolutely  dualistic  relationship  to  the  world,  con- 
sists in  this  unsparing  conquest  of  all  expression  of  life. 

The  form  will  of  Classical  man  is  recorded  in  the 
organic  rhythmic  line  of  his  ornament.  He  approaches 
outer  objects  with  this  ornamental  idiom.  To  him 
artistic  representation  means  clear  reproduction  of  the 
organic  expressional  value  of  objects,  means  transfer- 
ence of  the  expressional  value  of  his  langmage  of  orna- 
ment to  the  objects  to  be  represented. 

Now,  through  the  analysis  of  northern  ornament, 
we  have  come  to  know  also  the  nature  of  the  Gothic 
form  will.  We  saw  in  this  linear  fantasy  with  its 
feverishly  intensified  activity,  lacking  all  organic  mod- 
eration, the  intense  longing  to  create  a world  of  non- 
sensuous,  or  supersensuous,  mental  complexes  of  ex- 
pression, to  be  absorbed  in  which  mitst  have  been  a 
liberating  intoxicate  joy  to  northern  man,  who  was 
bound  by  a chaotic  picture  of  actuality.  His  artistic 
adjustment  with  the  world  could,  therefore,  have  no 
other  aim  than  that  of  assimilating  the  outer  objects  to 
his  specific  language  of  line,  that  is,  of  turning  them  into 
this  activity,  strained  and  intensified  to  the  maximum  ex- 
pressive power.  All  that  the  outer  world  offered  was 
only  confused  impressions  of  actuality.  These  he 


60 


Form  Problems  of  the  Gothic. 


grasped  clearly  and  in  all  details;  but  tbe  mere  ob- 
jective imitation  of  these  would  not  yet  have  meant  art 
to  him ; for  it  would  not  have  freed  the  individual  im- 
pression of  actuality  from  tlie  (general  fluctuating 
phenomenal  sequence.  Only  the  combination  of  these  im- 
pressions of  actuality  with  tliose  intensified  mental  com- 
plexes of  expression  made  art  out  olf  the  objective  imitit- 
tion.  Coming  at  it  from  other  viewpoints,  Lamprecht 
interprets  the  situation  as  follows;  “It  is  a time  when 
ornament  is  still  the  only  means  of  expression  at  the  dis- 
posal of  the  artist.  It  is  not  that  the  Germanic  eye  could 
not  have  seen  the  animal  world  in  its  infinitely  varied 
forms  and  changing  movements  just  as  Avell  as  our  eye. 
Surely,  people  did  not  see  things  at  that  time  as  in  the 
ornament,  that  is,  in  the  roughi.  But  whenever  the  eye 
communicated  aesthetic  visions,  whenever  it  was  to  help 
the  artist  in  artistic  reproduction  of  nature,  its  receptive 
capacity,  its  ability  to  grasp,  appeared  so  limited  that 
only  the  ornamental  reflection  was  felt  to  be  the 
really  aesthetic  presentation  of  natural  forms.” 

Thus  results,  then,  the  specific  double  effect,  or  hy- 
brid effect,  of  all  Gothic  art:  on  the  one  hand  the 
sharpest  direct  grasp  of  actuality,  on  the  other  a 
super-actual  fantastic  play  of  line  that  pays  no  at- 
tention to  any  object  and  lives  on  its  inherent  expres- 
sion alone.  The  whole  evolution  of  Gothic  representa- 
tive art  is  determined  by  this  counter-play  and  interplay. 
The  following  are,  briefly  sketched,  the  steps  in  this 
artistic  adjustment  of  northern  man  to  actuality  (it  is 
always  a matter  merely  of  actuality;  nature  enters 
into  the  northerner’s  sphere  of  vision  and  knowledge 
only  with  the  Eenaissance,  which  represents,  therefore, 
the  denouement  olf  the  genuine  development). 

At  the  beginning  is  found  absolute  dualism  between 
man  and  actuality.  Actual  things  are  completely  in- 
volved in  the  super-actual  play  of  line;  they  entirely 
vanish  in  it.  The  dynamics  of  artistic  volition  are  here 
strongest;  the  overcoming  of  actuality  is  most  con- 
sistent It  is  the  stage  of  Ziobmorphic  ornament. 

In  the  course  of  mental  progress  the  originally 
strict  dualism  of  man  and  actuality  wears  slowly 


From  Animal  Ornament  to  the  Art  of  Holbein.  61. 

away,  while  also  in  art  the  actual  receives  more  empha- 
sis in  comparison  to  the  non-actual,  though  this  latter 
continues  to  prevail.  As  the  value  of  the  actual 
raises  higher  claims,  its  amalgamation  with  those  non- 
actual elements  of  spiritual  expression  becomes  all  the 
more  noticeable,  and  the  hybrid  character  of  Gothic 
is  for  that  reason  most  pronounced  at  this  stage.  This 
stage  is  represented  on  the  one  side  by  Gothic  cathedral 
statuary,  on  the  other  by  Gothic  treatment  of  drapery. 

The  connection  of  Gothic  cathedral  statuary  with 
early  animal  ornament  is  relatively  close.  As  in  the 
latter  the  animal  forms  are  completely  absorbed  in  an 
independent  linear  activity,  so  in  the  former  the  statues 
are  completely  absorbed  in  an  independent  architectural 
activity  of  extreme  expressive  power.  These  forms  at- 
tained such  a spiritual  expression  as  the  Gothic  artist 
required  only  by  becoming  part  of  a spiritual  world  ot 
expression  extraneous  to  them.  Eemoved  from  their  set- 
ting the  ornamental  animal  forms,  like  the  cathedral 
statues,  are  dead,  senseless,  and  expressionless.  They 
acquire  their  spiritual  expressiveness,  which  is  their 
value  as  Gothic  art,  only  by  their  absorption  into  either 
the  abstract  drawing  or  the  abstract  construction,  whose 
respective  expressional  values  are  transferred  to  them. 
For  the  psychologist  of  style  there  lies  between  animal 
ornament  and  cathedfal  statuary  only  the  qualified  dif- 
ference that  the  more  advanced  development  entails : 
vague  suggestions  of  animals  have  become  statues  with 
sharply  stamped  physiognomies,  confused  drawing  has 
become  refined  construction. 

The  Gothic  treatment  of  drapery  [PI.  XI,  B] 
shows  us  the  stage  where  the  factors  of  actuality  bal- 
ance their  opposites ; both  have  equivalent  develop- 
ment, but  oppose  each  other  abruptly,  irreconcilably,  in 
unconcealed  duality.  For  the  contrast  of  body  and 
drapery,  which  is  so  charactertistic  of  middle  Gothic 
art,  is  nothing  but  the  contrast  of  actuality  and  non- 
actuality, or  super-actuality.  To  be  sure,  one  can 
really  speak  only  of  contrast  of  face  and  drapery,  for 
in  these  representations  the  body  does  not  appear  at 
all  as  different  from  the  drapery,  and  the  whole  sharp- 


62 


Form  Problems  of  the  Gothic. 


ness  of  the  apprehension  of  actuality  is  concentrated  on 
the  naturalism  of  facial  treatment.  This  magnificent, 
accurate  naturalism  is  opposed  and  equalized  by  the 
drapery  complex,  which  the  Gothic  artist  converted  into 
a scene  of  non-actuality,  into  an  artful  chaos  of  vio- 
lently agitated  lines  with  a strange,  independent  vitality 
and  expressiveness. 

That  which  here  stands  unreconciled  and  for  our 
modern  eye  senselessly  opposed  reaches  in  the  highest 
stage  of  northern  development  an  ideal  reconciliation, 
particularly  in  the  graphic  art  of  line  of  a Dfirer  or 
Holbein  [PI.  XI,  A].  Plere  naturalism  and  spiritual 
expressiveness  are  no  longer  antitheses,  here  they  are 
no  longer  brought  into  a superficial  connection,  hut  into 
an  inner  union.  The  intention  of  spiritualization  has, 
to  be  sure,  lost  its  great  dynamic  force,  hut  it  is  so 
sublimated,  so  comjiletely  assimilated  that  it  is  able  to 
identify  itself  with  that  spiritual  expression  which 
proceeds  from  the  representation  or  even  the  thing  rep- 
resented. This  spiritual  expressiveness,  therefore,  is 
no  longer  forced  upon  actuality  from  vuthout  but  is 
produced  by  it.  The  reproduction  of  actuality  and 
the  abstract  play  of  line  reach  a fusion  which  ive  owe, 
as  has  been  said,  to  Dfirer ’s  and  Holbein’s  power  of 
graphic  characterization,  which,  within  the  bounds  of 
formative  art,  is  the  utmost  attainable  under  the  artis- 
tic conditions  existent  in  the  north  and  is  therefore  in 
its  perfection  unparalleled  in  all  art  history.  The 
power  of  graphic  characterization  is  quite  unthinkable 
without  this  earlier  practice  in  purely  abstract  line. 
This  practice  first  made  it  possible  for  the  inherent 
expression  of  the  line,  for  its  independent  spiritual 
existence,  to  enter  into  so  happy  a combination  with 
the  ancillary  function  of  the  line,  dependent  upon  the 
object,  that  the  spiritual  expressional  value  of  the 
line  becomes  likewise  interpreter  of  the  spiritual  energy 
of  the  thing  represented.  At  this  stage  the  competition 
of  spiritual  expression  and  reproduction  of  actuality 
becomes  a cooperation  which  produces  the  highest 
power  of  spiritual  characterization  knovui  to  art  history. 
In  this  concentration  of  spiritual  energies  the  Gothic 


Plate  XI. 


A.  Death  and  the  Cakdin^al.  Engraving  by  Holbein 

(Museum  of  Fine  Arts.  Boston) 


B.  Prophet.  Late  Gothic  C.  Square  Pillar,  Rojianesqub 

(Metropolitan  Museum  of  Art,  Few  Yorlc) 


Feom  Animal  Ornament  to  the  Art  op  Holbein.  63 


culminates,  the  northern  abstract  art  of  line  culminates  ; 
and  one  cannot  better  emphasize  the  contrast  between 
Gothic  and  Classic  than  by  introducing  for  comparison 
Michelangelo,  with  whom,  in  a manner,  the  Classical, 
that  is,  organically  defined  art  of  expression,  reaches 
its  culmination;  the  mightiest  presentation  of  sensuous 
energies  is  here  opposed  to  the  mightiest  presentation 
of  spiritual  energies.  Thus  runs  the  contrast  of  Classic 
and  Gothic.  And  it  may  only  be  indicated  here  that 
northern  art,  after  it  has  been  deprived  of  all  sure 
orientation  by  taking  up  the  incompatible  Classical 
elements  offered  by  the  European  Eenaissance,  mani- 
fests no  longer  in  form,  but  only  in  content,  the 
spiritual  expressiveness  which  its  whole  constitution 
requires  and  which  has  now  been  robbed  of  its  proper 
channel,  the  abstract  line.  Indeed,  the  distinction  be- 
tween form  and  content,  that  no  autochthonous  art 
knows,  is  first  brought  into  northern  art  just  through 
this  general  artistic  disorientation.  The  inclination  of 
northern  art  to  allegorical  references,  to  literary  signif- 
icance, is  the  last  resource  of  that  desire  for  spiritual 
expression  which,  after  being  deprived  of  the  possibility 
of  natural  formal  embodiment  by  the  dominance  of  an 
alien  world  of  forms,  is  now  grafted  on  the  art  pro- 
duction so  superficially  and  inartistic-ally.  The  strong- 
est northern  painters  after  the  Eenaissance  have  been 
disguised  men  of  letters,  disguised  poets,  and  to  that 
extent,  unfortunately,  those  critics  are  not  entirely  in 
the  wrong  who  consider  the  essence  of  German  art 
inseparably  connected  with  this  literary  note.  That 
only  throws  a more  livid  light  on  the  catastrophe  of  the 
northern  Eenaissance  and  only  excuses,  at  the  same 
time,  those  who  have  revolted  from  an  art  that  has 
lost  its  ideal  unity  and  who  have  sought  attachment 
where  the  artistic  vdll  still  knows  how  to  express  it- 
self in  a purely  formal  manner.  And  in  modern 
Europe  that  is  probably  still  the  case  only  in  France, 
which  has  in  addition  produced  in  its  modern  art  a 
sort  of  synthesis  between  northern  spirituality  and 
southern  sensuality. 


Transcendentalism  of  the  Gothic  World  of 

Expression 


E said  that  the  a priori  form  will  of  a period  of 


“ ’ human  history  was  ahvays  the  adequate  baroui- 
eter  of  its  relationship  to  the  surrounding  world.  So, 
from  the  character  of  the  Gothic  form  will,  as  we  have, 
through  the  analysis  of  northern  ornament,  become 
acquainted  with  it  in  its  crudest  but  most  striking  form, 
an  understanding  of  the  relation  in  which  northern 
man  stood  to  the  outer  world  must  be  disclosed  to  us. 

To  orientate  ourselves  Ave  again  have  recourse 
to  the  great  model  examples  of  human  history,  as  we 
have  established  them  in  earlier  chapters.  There  the 
orderly  connection  between  form  will  and  cosmic  sense 
was  quite  clear.  Thus,  we  saw  in  the  case  of  primitive, 
mentally  undeveloped  man,  an  absolute  dualism,  a re- 
lationship of  unmitigated  fear  toward  the  phenomenal 
world,  which  in  matters  of  art  was  naturally  expressed 
in  his  need  of  saving  himself  from  the  caprice  of  the 
phenomenal  world  and  of  clinging  to  self -created  A’alues 
of  invariable  and  unconditional  character.  His  art  is 
consequently  anchored  in  a need  for  salvation  and  that 
gives  it  a transcendental  character. 

Oriental  art,  which  likewise  grows  out  of  the 
need  for  salvation,  has  the  same  transcendental  char- 
acter. The  ditference  between  the  two,  as  we  saw,  is 
not  one  of  kind,  but  of  degree,  as  folloAvs  from  the 
ditference  between  primithnty  and  culture.  The  generic 
similarity  of  psychic  conditions  shows  itself,  in  spite 
of  all  inequality,  by  the  fact  that  in  both  the  form  will 
is  bound  to  the  abstract  line,  Avhich  is  not  organically 
moderated.  Wherever  the  abstract  line  is  the  vehicle 
of  the  form  will,  art  is  transcendental,  is  conditioned  by 
needs  of  salvation.  The  organically  determined  line,  on 
the  other  hand,  indicates  that  all  need  of  salvation  in 


(64) 


TeANSCEJSTDENTALISM  of  THEi  GOTHIC.  65 

a broad  sense  is  abated  and  diminished  to  a mere 
individual  need  of  salvation  such  as  is  present,  after  all, 
in  any  inclination  toward  order  and  harmony.  Art  is 
then  no  longer  transcendental  in  a broad  sense. 

In  the  case  of  the  Gothic,  therefore,  we  conclude  that 
this  state  of  abatement  and  moderation  can  not  yet 
have  been  reached;  for  the  need  of  salvation  is  al- 
ready indicated  as  psychic  presupposition  of  Gothic 
art  by  the  fact  that  in  it  the  abstract  line  without  organic 
moderation  is  the  vehicle  of  the  form  will.  On  the  other 
hand,  we  see  that  this  need  of  salvation  is  plainly  distin- 
guished from  that  of  primitive  and  Oriental  man;  for 
while  primitive  and  Oriental  man  go  to  the  extreme  limit 
in  the  artistic  expression  of  their  longing  for  salvation 
and  achieve  freedom  from  the  tormenting  caprice  of  the 
living  phenomenal  world  only  through  the  contemplation 
of  dead,  expressionless  values,  we  see  the  Gothic  line 
full  of  expression,  full  of  vitality.  In  contrast  to 
Oriental  fatalism  and  quietism,  here  is  a longing, 
urgent  agitation,  a restless  activity  [PI.  XI,  B].  The 
dualistic  relation  to  the  outer  world  can  therefore  not 
be  present  in  such  force  as  in  the  case  of  primitive  and 
Oriental  man,  nor  can  it  be  so  worn  away  by  knowledge 
as  with  Classical  man;  for  in  that  case  the  line  clari- 
fied in  organic  fashion  would  proclaim  the  conquest 
of  all  dualistic  anxiety. 

That  the  Gothic  line  is  essentially  abstract  and  at 
the  same  time  of  very  strong  vitality  tells  us  that  this 
is  a differentiated,  intermediate  state  in  which  dualism 
is  no  longer  strong  enough  to  look  for  artistic  liberation 
in  absolute  negation  of  life,  but  also  not  yet  so  weakened 
as  to  derive  the  meaning  of  art  from  the  organic  law 
of  life  itself.  Thus,  the  Gothic  form  will  shows  neither 
the  calm  expression  of  absolute  lack  of  knowledge,  as 
in  the  ease  of  primitive  man,  nor  the  calm  expression  of 
absolute  renunciation  of  knowledge,  as  in  the  case  of 
Oriental  man,  nor  yet  the  calm  expression  of  established 
belief  in  knowledge,  as  recorded  in  the  organic  harmony 
of  Classic  art.  Its  true  nature  seems,  rather,  to  be  an 
uneasy  anxiety  that  in  its  seeking  for  satisfaction,  in  its 
pursuit  of  salvation,  can  find  no  other  comfort  than 


66 


Form  Problems  or  the  Gothic. 


that  of  stupefaction,  than  that  of  intoxication.  The 
dualism,  no  longer  sufficient  for  negation  of  life,  and 
already  waning  because  of  knowledge  that  neverthe- 
less is  withholding  complete  contentment,  becomes  an 
obscure  mania  for  intoxication,  a convulsive  longing  to 
be  absorbed  in  a supersensuous  ecstasy,  a pathos  whose 
real  nature  is  intemperance. 

Thus,  the  Gothic  soul  is  already  clearly  reflected  in 
northern  ornament.  The  curves  of  its  sensibility  are 
what  the  line  here  describes.  That  which  lives  in  this 
tangle  of  lines  is  the  soul’s  life;  the  dissatisfaction,  the 
constant  greed  for  new  acceleration  and  finally  the  im- 
pulse that  loses  itself  in  the  infinite  is  the  soul’s  impulse. 
The  soul  has  lost  the  innocence  of  ignorance,  but  has 
been  nnable  to  push  forward  to  the  Oriental’s  haughty 
repudiation  of  knowledge,  or  to  the  Classical  man’s 
joy  in  knowledge,  and  so,  robbed  of  all  clear,  natural 
satisfaction,  it  can  only  give  off  its  vital  powers  in  a 
convulsive  unnatural  way.  Only  this  violent  exaltation 
carries  it  off  to  spheres  of  sensibility  in  which  it  at 
last  loses  the  sense  of  its  inner  discord  and  finds  re- 
lease from  its  uneasy,  obscure  relation  to  the  world. 
Being  distressed  by  the  actual,  excluded  from  the 
natural,  it  aspires  to  a world  above  the  actual,  above 
the  sensuous.  It  requires  a frenzy  of  feeling  in  order 
to  transcend  itself.  Only  in  intoxication  does  it  feel 
the  touch  of  the  eternal.  This  sublime  hysteria  is  that 
which  above  all  else  characterizes  the  Gothic  phenom- 
enon. 

The  same  convulsion  of  feeling  that  northern 
ornament  expresses  in  the  pathos  of  its  linear  fantasy 
subsequently  produces  the  non-sensuous,  supersensuous 
pathos  of  Gothic  architecture.  A straight  path  leads  from 
northern  ornament  to  Gothic  architecture.  The  form  will 
which  was  originally  capable  of  expressing  itself  only 
in  the  free,  unencumbered  theatre  of  ornamental  actiw.- 
ty  gradually  becomes  so  strong  that  it  finally  succeeds 
also  in  bending  the  hard,  unwieldy  stuff  of  architecture 
to  its  purpose  and  even  in  finding  here — goaded  to  the 
highest  exertion  by  the  natnral  opposition — its  most 
imposing  expression. 


Transcendentalism  of  the  Gothic. 


67 


This  quality  of  pathos  can  be  pointed  out  as  a 
fundamental  element  of  northern  form  will  in  other 
fields,  as  Avell.  The  quite  unique  interlocking  of  words 
and  sentences  in  early  northern  poetry,  with  its  artful 
chaos  of  interwoven  ideas,  the  alliterated  expressive 
rhythm,  with  its  intricate  repetition  of  initial  sounds 
(corresponding  to  the  repetition  of  motive  in  orna- 
ment and,  like  it,  giving  the  effect  of  a confused  endless 
melody) — all  these  are  unmistakable  analogies  to  north- 
ern ornament.  German  poetry  is  unacquainted  with  the 
expression  of  rest  and  of  equilibrium:  everything  is 
directed  toward  movement.  “Thus,  the  poetry  of  the 
Teutons  knows  no  contemplative  absorption  into  a 
calm  condition;  their  poetry  dreams  no  deedless  idyll; 
only  stirring  action  and  strongly  streaming  feeling 
arrest  their  attention.  . . . Our  ancestors  must  have 

been  peculiarly  susceptible  to  pathos;  otherwise  the 
construction  of  this  poetry  cannot  he  the  true  expression 
of  inner  mood”  (Lamprecht). 

We  therefore  find  that  corroborated  which  the 
character  of  northern  ornament  has  already  betrayed 
to  us.  Where  the  intensification  of  pathos  dominates, 
there  must  be  inner  dissonances  to  drown  out ; all  pathos 
is  foreijgTi  to  the  healthy  soul.  Only  where  the  soul  is 
denied  its  natural  vents,  only  where  it  has  not  yet 
found  its  balance,  does  it  relieve  its  inner  pressure  in 
such  unnatural  acceleration.  Think  of  the  extravagant 
pathos  of  puberty,  when,  under  stress  of  critical  inner 
adjustments,  the  pursuit  of  spiritual  intoxication  is 
so  excessive.  “Now,  so  much  is  certain,  that  the 
indefinite  and  diffuse  susceptibilities  of  youth  and  of 
backward  people  are  alone  adapted  to  the  sublime, 
which  whenever  it  is  to  be  aroused  in  us  by  exterior 
objects  must  be  formless  or  in  incomprehensible  forms 
and  must  surround  us  with  a grandeur  that  is  beyond 
ns.  . . . But  as  the  sublime  is  very  easily  pro- 

duced by  dusk  and  night,  where  shapes  fuse,  it  is,  on 
the  contrary,  dispelled  by  daylight,  which  defines  and 
separates  everything,  and  thus  it  must  be  blighted  by 
each  developing  form.”  These  words  of  Goethe  could 
stand  as  motto  for  our  whole  study. 


68 


Fokm  Problems  of  the  Gothic. 


The  ornamental  paradigm  tells  us  enough  about 
the  discord  that  determined  the  form  will  of  the 
Gothic.  Where  harmony  obtains  between  man  and 
outer  world,  where  the  inner  balance  is  found,  as  in 
the  case  of  Classical  man,  the  demand  for  form  operates 
as  a demand  for  harmony,  for  fulfillment,  for  organic 
perfection.  It  rounds  the  happy  and  felicitous  forms, 
which  correspond  to  the  intellectual  security  and  con- 
sequent inner  joy  of  existence.  Perplexed  by  no  ob- 
struction, exalted  by  no  passion  for  transcendency,  it 
expends  its  whole  vitality  ^vithin  the  bounds  of  human 
organic  being.  A glance  at  Greek  ornament  proves  it. 

The  Gothic  soul,  however,  lacks  this  harmony. 
With  it  the  inner  and  outer  world  are  still  unreconciled, 
and  these  unreconciled  antitheses  urge  a solution  in 
transcendental  spheres,  a solution  in  exalted  conditions 
of  the  soul.  It  is  important  that  a final  solution,  there- 
fore, is  still  held  possible,  there  is  yet  no  consciousness 
of  ultimate  dualism.  The  antitheses  are  not  yet  con- 
sidered as  irreconcilable,  but  only  as  still  unreconciled. 
The  difference  between  the  abstract  line,  void  of  ex- 
pression, of  Oriental  man  and  the  abstract  line,  intensi- 
fied in  expression,  of  Gothic  man  is  just  the  difference 
between  an  ultimate  dualism  resting  on  deepest  cosmic 
insight  and  a provisional  dualism  resting  on  an  un- 
developed stage  of  knowledge,  that  is,  the  difference 
between  the  lofty  quietism  of  old  age  and  the  ex- 
travagant pathos  of  youth. 

The  dualism  of  Gothic  man  is  not  superior  to 
knomng,  as  in  the  case  of  Oriental  man,  but  prior  to 
knowing.  It  is  partly  his  vague  foreboding,  partly  his 
bitter  experience.  His  dualistic  suffering  is  not  yet 
refined  into  reverence.  He  continues  to  struggle  against 
the  inevitability  of  dualism  and  he  seeks  to  overcome 
it  by  unnatural  exaltation  of  feeling.  The  feeling  of 
dualistic  distraction,  which  is  neither  overcome  in  the 
Classical  sense  by  rational,  sensuous  knowledge,  nor 
alleviated  and  transfigured  in  Oriental  fashion  by  deep 
metaphysical  insight,  disquiets  and  troubles  him.  He 
feels  like  a slave  to  higher  powers  that  he  can  only 
dread  and  not  revere.  Between  the  Greek  worship  of 


Teanscendbntalism  of  the  Gothic. 


69 


tlie_world,  which  has  originally  resulted  from  rationalism 
and  naive  sensuality,  and  the  Oriental  renunciation  of 
the  world,  which  has  been  elevated  to  religion,  he  stands 
with  his  unhappy  fear  of  the  world,  a product  of 
earthly  restlessness  and  metaphysical  anxiety.  And 
since  rest  and  serenity  are  denied  him,  he  has  no 
alternative  hut  to  intensify  his  unrest  and  confusion 
to  that  point  v/here  they  bring  him  stupefaction,  where 
they  bring  him  deliverance. 

The  northerner’s  need  of  activity,  which  is  denied 
conversion  into  clear  knowledge  of  actuality  and  which 
is  intensified  by  this  lack  of  a natural  vent,  finally  un- 
burdens itself  in  an  unhealthy  fantastic  activity.  This 
intensified  fantastic  activity  lays  hold  of  the  actual, 
which  Gothic  man  could  not  yet  convert  into  the  natural 
by  means  of  clear  knowledge,  and  changes  it  into  the 
phantasmagoria  of  intensified  and  distorted  actuality. 
All  is  transformed  into  the  uncanny,  the  fantastic.  Be- 
hind the  obvious  appearance  of  things  lurks  their  shape- 
less caricature,  behind  the  lifelessness  of  things  an 
uncannj^  ghastly  life;  and  everything  actual  becomes 
grotesque  [PI.  VII].  Thus,  the  passion  for  knowledge, 
prevented  from  its  natural  satisfaction,  vents  itself  in 
wild  fantasy.  And  as  an  underground  current  flows 
from  the  confused  play  of  lino  in  northern  ornament  to 
the  refined  art  of  construction  in  Gothic  architecture, 
so  a current  flows  from  this  confused  fantasy  of  mental 
infancy  to  the  refined  construction  of  scholasticism. 
All  have  in  common  the  passion  for  movement  that  is 
not  connected  with  any  goal  and  therefore  loses  itself 
in  the  infinite.  In  the  ornament  and  in  the  early 
visionary  life  we  see  mere  chaos;  in  Gothic  architecture 
and  scholasticism  this  raw  chaos  has  become  an  artful, 
refined  chaos.  The  form  will  remains  unaltered  through- 
out the  whole  development,  but  it  passes  through  all 
stages  from  utmost  primitivity  to  utmost  culture. 


Northern  Religious  Feeling 


llj  OWBVEK  little  the  religious  feeling  of  northern 
man  before  the  reception  of  Christianity  is 
known  to  us,  however  much  the  sources  deny  us  here, 
the  general  nature  of  this  feeling  can  nevertheless  be 
outlined.  A sleepless  fantasy  of  religious  turn,  with  un- 
clear discrimination,  with  fusion  of  the  actual  and  the 
non-actual  seems  to  have  been  characteristic  in  this 
respect,  as  well.  Between  the  beautiful,  clear-cut  plastic 
character  of  the  Classical  Olympus  and  the  entirely  im- 
material, impersonal  transcendentalism  of  the  Orient 
the  hybrid  formation  of  the  northern  world  of  gods  and 
spirits  takes  a middle  place.  Just  as  one  expects  to 
understand  these  gods,  they  evaporate  again  into 
chimeras,  and  between  the  shaped  and  the  shapeless 
there  seem  to  be  no  transitions,  no  boundaries.  “The 
shapes  of  the  divinities  contain  something  incompre- 
hensible : whenever  they  are  personified,  the  direction 
of  their  powers  would  seem  to  mock  the  application  of 
any  human  standard.  This  is  apparently  the  reason 
why  the  Teutonic  gods  seem  irregular  in  their  shape, 
variable  in  the  division  of  their  functions.  As  a 
general  rule,  the  chief  gods,  at  least,  were  conceived  as 
impersonal  beings  in  the  mysterious  shades  of  the 
forests”  (Lamprecht). 

In  the  crude  eudemonism  of  its  general  ideas  north- 
ern religion  does  not  differ  much  from  other  nature  re- 
ligions. But  behind  this  first  observable  eudemonism  a 
searching  eye  discovers  at  once  the  vast  substratum  of 
ideas  of  dread,  which  germinate  from  dualistio  discon- 
tent and  impregnate  the  northern  pantheon  with  ghosts, 
specters,  and  spooks.  There  is  at  work  here  a passion  for 
creating  fantastic  shapes,  which  creates  from  the  play  of 
impressions  a play  of  wild,  confused  spirits  who  here 
and  there  assume  a shape  only  to  evaporate  again  into 
shapelessness  when  more  closely  examined.  A certain 
wavering,  a restless  agitation  is  common  to  this  whole 

(70) 


Northeen  Eeligious  Feeling. 


71 


world  of  specters  and  ghosts.  The  northerner  knows 
nothing  calm,  his  whole  creative  power  is  concentratea 
upon  the  idea  of  unrestrained,  immeasurable  aetivitjL 
The  storm  spirits  are  his  closest  kin. 

We  have  only  fragmentary  information  concerning 
the  religious  cult  also.  Far  from  devout  reverence  and 
absorption  in  deity,  the  cult  exhausts  itself,  rather,  in 
a solicitous  and  sacrificing  conjuration  and  appeasement 
of  uncertain  supernatural  powers. 

In  the  difference  between  northern  and  Classical 
pantheons  we  best  catch  the  peculiarity  of  Germanic 
religious  feeling.  In  the  former  there  is  an  irregular, 
impersonal  agitation,  an  impetuous  jiresence  of  prac- 
tically abstract  forces,  which  take  a shape  only  tempo- 
rarily and  even  then  a deceptive,  enigmatic,  irritating 
one  (just  as  in  the  ornament  the  impetuous  presence  of 
abstract  lines  is  also  interspersed  with  concrete  sug- 
gestions [PI.  VIII,  C] ) ; in  the  latter,  on  the  contrary, 
there  is  a self-satisfied,  tangible  presence  of  clear,  un- 
deceptive  and  unenigmatic  sculptural  quality  [PI.  IV]. 
Nor  did  the  Greek  race  reach  this  culmination  of 
organic  creative  power  all  at  once ; it,  too,  had  to  over- 
come old  dualistic  disquietude,  partially  the  residue  of 
crude  developmental  stages,  partially  the  infection  of 
Oriental  spiritualism.  But  the  Homeric  Greek,  with  his 
polytheism,  already  stands  in  the  full  sunlight,  and  all 
phantoms  and  hobgoblins  have  vanished.  The  develop- 
ment from  obscure  fear  of  ghosts,  from  vague,  un- 
refined fatalism  to  a cosmic  conception  of  the  world 
and  the  corresponding  plastic  conception  of  the  gods 
Erwin  Eohde  traces  in  his  Psyche  as  follows:  “The 
Homeric  Greek  feels  in  the  bottom  of  his  heart  his 
limitations,  his  dependence  upon  powers  without.  Gods 
rule  over  him  vfith  magic  poAver,  often  with  unwise 
judgment,  but  there  is  wakened  the  idea  of  a general 
world  order,  of  a fitting  together  according  to  allotted 
parts  of  the  interrelated  episodes  in  the  life  of  the 
individual  and  of  the  whole  ) ; the  caprice  of  the 

individual  demons  is  put  within  bounds.  The  belief  is 
proclaimed  that  the  world  is  a cosmos,  a good  order. 


72 


Form  Problems  of  the  Gothic. 


such  as  human  governments  strive  to  effect.  By  the 
side  of  such  ideas  the  belief  in  the  disorderly  doings 
of  ghosts  cannot  well  continue  to  thrive.  These  doings 
of  ghosts  are  always  recognizable  in  contrast  to  genuine 
divinity  by  the  fact  that  they  are  excluded  from  any 
activity  which  goes  to  form  a consistent  whole  and  that 
they  leave  free  play  to  the  evil  desires  of  the  various 
invisible  powers.  The  irrational,  the  inexplicable,  is 
the  kernel  of  the  belief  in  spirits;  upon  this  rests  the 
peculiar  weirdness  of  this  field  of  belief  or  illusion; 
upon  this  rests,  moreover,  the  unsteady  fluctuation  of  its 
shapes.  The  Homeric  religion  is  already  rationalized, 
its  gods  are  fully  comprehensible  to  the  Greek  mind, 
fully  clear  and  plainly  recognizable  to  the  Greek  fancy 
in  shape  and  behavior.  ’ ’ 

Something  of  service  to  us  as  an  important  side- 
light on  our  Gothic  problem  is  clearly  expressed  here : 
the  beautiful,  sculptural  character  of  the  Greek  Olympus 
does  not  exclude,  as  one  might  think,  a rationalistic 
conception  of  the  world,  but  is  its  direct  complement 
as  the  other  aspect  of  an  anthropocentric,  an  anthropo- 
morphic, creative  power,  that  draws  its  vigor  from  the 
felicitous  feeling  of  unity  vdth  the  outer  world. 

Unfortunately,  no  Eohde  has  yet  appeared  to  write 
for  us  the  northern  Psyche.  As  has  been  said,  we  are 
here  groping  almost  entirely  in  the  dark ; for  the 
material  that  we  have  is  very  meager  and,  furthermore, 
distorted  by  later  additions  of  Christian  prejudice.  The 
sparse  records  concerning  the  religious  views  of  the 
northern  races  confirm  for  us,  however,  as  we  have 
seen,  what  the  early  art  had  to  say  to  us  in  regard  to 
the  hybrid  character  of  their  psychical  economy.  North- 
ern mythology  of  later  times  can  be  used  only  with 
great  care  for  the  interpretation  of  northern  relisious 
feeling,  because  its  connection  cvith  the  purely  religious 
sensibility  is  only  a very  loose  one.  It  belongs  more 
to  the  history  of  literature  than  to  the  history  of 
religion. 

We  get,  however,  the  best  information  concerning 
the  northern  psychical  make-up  not  from  direct  inter- 


Northern  Religious  Feeling.  73 

pretation,  but  from  conclusions  we  can  draw  with  full 
certainty  from  later,  better  recorded  stages  of  develop- 
ment. And  from  this  standpoint  the  most  pregnant  fact 
is  the  recejition  of  Christianity  by  the  north.  A people 
does  not  accept  even  by  force  any  religion  of  a nature 
absolutely  alien  to  it.  Certain  conditions  of  resonance 
must  precede.  If  the  soil  is  in  no  way  prepared,  strong 
and  brutal  compulsion  can  no  doubt  bring  an  outer  and 
superficial  acceptation  of  a religion  but  can  never  force 
it  to  take  deeper  root.  And  Christianity  did  take  root 
not  only  in  the  upper  soil  but  also  in  the  subsoil  of 
northern  feeling,  although  it  could  not  reach  into  all 
strata.  Certain  psychical  conditions  must  therefore 
have  made  ready  for  the  reception.  All  the  mythological 
polytheism  had  not  been  able  to  bury  a certain  fan- 
tastic trend  of  the  northern  soul  toward  monotheism. 
Indeed,  this  trend  became  constantly  stronger  and 
finally  led  to  the  twilight  of  the  gods,  to  the  overthrow 
of  the  old  polytheistic  ghost-like  conception  of  the 
gods;  in  their  place  came  the  dark,  inexorable,  fatal 
power  of  the  norns.  The  development  pressed  forward, 
therefore,  toward  a monotheism,  and  since,  in  addition 
to  this,  Christianity  offered  with  its  cult  of  saints  and 
martyrs  a certain  compensation  for  the  not  yet  wholly 
suppressed  polytheistic  needs,  the  exchange  of  mytho- 
logical for  Christian  ideas  was  well  prepared  for. 

Yet  for  the  north  the  greatest  persuasive  power  of 
Christianity  lay  in  its  systematic  elaboration.  The 
system  of  Christianity  with  its  completeness  won  over 
the  northerner  with  his  lack  of  system  and  his  chaotic, 
hazy  mysticism. 

Northern  man  lacked  the  strength  for  independent 
erection  of  a fixed  form  for  his  own  transcendental 
needs.  His  psychical  powers  were  dissipated  in  inner 
conflict  and  so  came  to  no  united  achievement.  The 
need  to  act  was  worn  off  along  the  devious  path  by  many 
obstacles,  and  what  remained  was  the  sense  of  a 
melancholy  weakness  that  then  longed  for  the  stupor 
of  intoxication.  This  conscious  enervation  made  north- 
ern man,  as  long  as  he  did  not  attain  to  inner  maturity, 
defenceless  against  any  ready  system  imposed  upon  him 


74 


Form  Problems  of  the  Gothic. 


from  without,  whether  Roman  law  or  Christianity. 
When,  as  in  Christianity,  chords  of  his  own  torn  nature 
echoed,  when  his  indefinite,  hazy,  transcendental  ideas 
met  in  it  a wonderfully  built  logical  system  of  related, 
transcendental  character,  this  system  was  hound  to 
have  a convincing  effect,  was  bound  to  take  unawares 
and  subdue  any  slight  disagreement.  Then  the  longing 
to  relax  in  a fixed  form  was  sure  to  overcome  all  dis- 
crepancy between  his  own  and  foreign  ideas.  The  sub- 
ject-matter, contents,  secondary  material  of  his  own 
conceptions,  were  subordinated  to  the  foreign  view- 
points and  thus  accommodated  to  the  ne’sv  form  more 
quickly  than  one  might  expect  from  the  sluggish 
northerner.  Yet  the  system  of  Christianity  always  re- 
mained only  a substitute  for  the  form  cvhich  for  the 
Ijresent  northern  man  could  not  create  of  his  own 
power.  So  there  could  be  no  question  of  a full,  un- 
reserved identification  with  Christianity,  and  though 
the  north,  tempted  by  the  ready  form,  did  surrender  to 
it,  many  sides  of  its  nature  remained  excluded  from 
this  form  it  had  not  created.  It  was  reserved  for  the 
climax  of  northern  development,  the  mature  Gothic, 
to  find  a form  corresponding  to  this  dualistic,  hybrid 
nature  and  to  systematize  the  chaotic  mania  for  in- 
toxication. Only  Christian  scholasticism  and,  in  a much 
higher  degree.  Gothic  architecture  are  the  real  ful- 
filment of  this  northern  form  will,  so  difficult  to  satis- 
fy; hence,  they  wall  again  occupy  us  at  length. 
iMeanwhile,  it  is  sufficient  to  see  confirmed  by  the  fact 
of  the  acceptance  of  Christianity  those  judgments  in 
regard  to  the  nature  of  northern  man  at  which  we 
arrived  by  the  one  path  of  the  psychological  analysis 
of  the  style  that  he  manifested  in  his  earliest  art. 
For  the  analysis  permitted  us  to  recognize  the  form 
will  which  is  adequate  to  his  relationship  to  the  outer 
world  and  therefore  determines  all  that  he  manifests  in 
his  life. 


The  Principle  of  Classical  Architecture 


t'  VERY  age  attacks  with  especial  energy  that  par- 
^ ticular  artistic  activity  that  most  closely  cor- 
responds to  its  peculiar  form  will;  it  gives  preference 
to  the  art  or  the  technique  whose  peculiar  means  of 
expression  otfer  the  best  guarantee  that  this  form  will 
can  he  uttered  freely  and  easily.  Therefore,  by  in- 
terrogating the  historical  facts  and  by  learning  what  arts 
dominate  in  the  various  epochs,  we  have  already  found 
the  most  important  and  fundamental  tool  for  determin- 
ing the  form  Avill  of  the  respective  epochs.  By  means  of 
it  we  reach  practically  the  only  correct  standpoint  from 
which  we  can  approach  the  interpretation  of  the  style 
phenomena  in  question.  For  example,  if  we  know  that 
in  Classical  antiquity  sculpture,  and  especially  sculp- 
tural representation  of  the  human  ideal  of  beauty, 
dominated,  it  gives  us  immediately  the  theme,  the 
fundamental  principle  of  Greek  art,  it  gives  us  im- 
mediately the  key  that  unlocks  the  holy  of  holies  of 
all  the  other  Greek  arts.  The  Greek  temple,  for  instance, 
cannot  be  understood  independently;  only  after  we  are 
acquainted  with  the  fundamental  principle  of  Greek  art 
creation  in  paradigmatic  purity  as  it  is  represented 
in  Greek  sculpture,  shall  we  understand  the  Greek 
temple  and  be  able  to  realize  with  what  feeling  the 
Greek  sought  and  was  able  to  express  with  purely 
static,  purely  constructive  terms,  that  law  of  the  beauty 
of  organic  existence,  for  which  he  found,  at  the  zenith 
of  his  art,  the  most  direct  and  lucid  expression  in  the 
immediate  sculptural  representation  of  the  human  ideal. 
Likewise,  we  shall  understand  the  gTOwth  of  the  arts 
of  the  Italian  Renaissance  only  after  we  have  heard 
and  understood  the  last  and  clearest  word  that  Raphael 
had  to  say. 

Every  style  phenomenon  has  such  a culmination,  in 
which  the  respective  form  will  teems  as  if  in  a culture 

(75) 


76 


Form  Problems  of  the  Gothic. 


of  bacteria.  Now,  in  regard  to  the  Gothic,  if  we  ask 
ourselves  in  what  art  or  what  art  technique  it  gave  off 
most  of  its  vital  forces,  there  can  he  no  doubt  of  the 
answer.  We  only  need  to  say  the  word  Gothic  to  call 
ui)  immediately  our  close  association  of  ideas  of  Gothic 
architecture.  This  invariable  connection  of  ideas  between 
Gothic  and  architecture  agrees  with  the  historical  fact 
that  the  Gothic  epoch  is  wholly  dominated  by  architec- 
ture, and  that  all  the  other  arts  either  are  directly  de- 
pendent, or,  at  any  rate,  play  a secondary  role. 

Whenever  we  speak  of  the  art  of  Classical  antiquity, 
it  is  characteristic  that  ancient  sculpture  wnth  the 
names  of  its  masters  comes  to  mind  as  our  first  associa- 
tion of  i<leas ; whenever  we  speak  of  the  Italian  Renais- 
sance, the  first  names  on  our  lips  are  Masaccio,  Leo- 
nardo, Raphael,  and  Titian ; but  whenever  we  speak  of 
the  Gothic,  there  immediately  stands  before  us  the  im- 
age of  Gothic  cathedrals.  And  with  the  above-men- 
tioned inner  connection  between  Gothic  and  Baroque  ac- 
cords the  fact  that  in  the  latter,  too,  architecture 
stands  out  as  the  most  closely  associated  idea. 

The  concept  Goth'e,  therefore,  is  inseparable  from 
the  image  of  Gotlfic  cathedrals;  all  the  tumultuous  ener- 
gies of  the  form  will  reach  in  Gothic  architecture  their 
brilliant  conclusion,  their  fulfilment  that  is  like  an 
apotheosis.  And  it  may  be  said  here  in  advance  that 
in  this,  its  extreme  feat  of  strength,  the  Gothic  form 
will  gave  out  and  ran  itself  to  death;  only  thus  is  its 
impotence  against  the  invasion  of  the  foreign  art  ideal 
of  the  Renaissance  explicable. 

What  the  analysis  of  northern  ornament  has  fore- 
told to  us  of  the  nature  of  the  Gothic  form  will,  we 
find,  then,  confirmed  by  the  absolute  predominance  of 
architecture  in  tlie  Gothic.  For  since  the  language  of 
architecture  is  alistract,  since  the  laws  of  its  constnic- 
tion  are  distinct  from  all  organic  law  and  are  rather  of 
an  abstract,  mechanical  sort,  so  in  the  Gothic  tendency  to 
express  itself  in  architecture  we  see  only  a parallelism 
to  the  ornament,  which,  as  we  saw,  wms  governed  by  the 
inherent  expression  (that  is,  by  the  mechanical  ex- 
pressional  value)  of  the  line,  hence  was  governed  like- 
wise by  abstract  values. 


The  Pkinoiple  of  Classicae  Architectuke. 


77 


Consequently,  ornament  and  architecture  play  the 
leading  part  in  the  Gothic.  They  alone,  by  virtue  of 
their  means  of  expression,  vouchsafe  an  artistic  mani- 
festation adequate  to  the  form  will.  A certain  danger 
to  the  exact  transcription  of  the  form  will  is  present  in 
the  ease  of  sculpture,  painting,  and  drawing;  in  fact 
they  contain  starting  points  for  the  realization  of  the 
Classical  form  will,  which  make  it  clear  how  the  author- 
ity of  the  Renaissance  gained  a footing  through  them 
and  dispossessed  the  old  form  will. 

Those  expressional  tendencies  to  which  the  play  of 
abstract  lines  in  the  ornament  had  given  so  unique  an 
inflection  were  bound  to  remain  valid  for  Gothic  architec- 
ture, as  well.  Our  investigation  of  the  nature  of  Gothic 
ardiitecture  is  to  uphold  this  statement.  And,  as  a foil, 
we  shall  constantly  bear  in  mind  Classical  architecture, 
for  it  shows  us  the  opposite  case  of  a form  will  that, 
by  nature,  has  to  express  itself  organically  and  not 
abstractly,  overcoming  the  abstraction  of  architectural 
means  of  expression. 

For  the  architectonic  world  is  vast,  and  its  possibil- 
ities of  expression  are  just  as  wide  and  unlimited 
as  its  laws  and  means  of  expression  are  narrow.  To 
be  sure,  the  laws  of  all  architecture  are  the  same, 
yet  not  the  expression  of  the  architecture  attained 
through  the  application  of  these  laws.  In  this  sense, 
in  its  artistic  longing  for  expression,  architecture  is 
just  as  independent  as  the  other  arts  that  are  especially 
emphasized  as  “free.”  The  way  in  which  the  relatively 
small  stock  of  structural  problems  is  constantly  varied 
into  new  forms  of  expression  under  pressure  of  the 
changing  form  will  is  just  what  makes  up  the  history 
of  architecture.  The  history  of  architecture  is  not  a 
history  of  technical  developments,  but  a history  of  the 
changing  aims  of  expression,  of  the  ways  and  means  by 
which  this  technique  conforms  and  ministers  to  the 
changing  aims  through  ever  new  and  different  combina- 
tions of  its  fundamental  elements.  It  is  no  more  a 
history  of  technique  than  the  history  of  philosophy  is 
the  history  of  logic.  In  this  case,  too,  we  see  how 
logic,  how  the  few  fundamental  problems  of  thinking,  are 


78 


Form  Problems  of  the  Gothic. 


varied  into  ever  new  systems  adequate  to  the  respec- 
tive etat  cVdrne. 

To  sharpen  our  eye  for  understanding  the  possibil- 
ities of  architectural  expression,  we  wish  to  begin  with 
an  investigation  of  the  principle  of  Classical  architec- 
ture. For  this  is  more  readily  intelligible  to  us  be- 
cause we  are  dependent  in  architecture,  as  in  every 
other  way,  upon  the  ancient  Classical  tradition,  re- 
juvenated by  the  European  Eenaissance.  Even  today 
a Greek  philosopher  is  easier  for  us  to  read  than  is  a 
mediaeval  scholastic. 

If  we  look  for  the  architectural  member  most 
/ peculiar  to  Classical  architecture,  the  column  presents 
itself  at  once  [PI.  XII].  The  thing  that  gives  the  col- 
umn its  expression  is  its  roundness.  This  roundness 
immediately  calls  forth  the  illusion  of  organic  vitality, 
firstly,  because  it  directly  recalls  the  roundness  of 
those  natural  members  that  exercise  a similar  carrying 
function,  especially  the  tree  trunk,  that  carries  the 
head,  or  the  stalk,  that  carries  the  blossom ; secondly, 
however,  the  roundness  in  and  for  itself  welcomes  our 
natural  organic  sense  without  suggesting  analogous 
ideas.  We  can  look  at  nothing  round  without  inwardly 
following  out  the  process  of  the  movement  that  created 
this  roundness.  We  feel,  as  it  were,  the  unconstrained 
security  with  which  the  centripetal  forces  concentrated 
in  the  middle,  or  in  the  axis,  of  the  column  hold  in 
check  and  bring  to  rest  the  centrifugal  forces;  we  feel 
the  drama  of  this  happy  balance,  feel  the  self-sufficiency 
of  the  column,  feel  the  eternal  melody  swajdng  in  the 
roundness,  feel,  above  all,  the  calm  produced  by  this 
perpetual  self-enclosed  movement.  Thus,  the  column, 
like  the  circle,  is  the  highest  symbol  of  self-enclosed  and 
perfected  organic  life. 

But  these  are  feelings  wakened  by  the  column  as 
a single  member,  quite  apart  from  its  function  in 
building.  They  become  still  stronger  if  we  look  at  the 
column  as  a member  of  the  structural  organism.  The 
structural  function  of  the  column  is  obviously  that  of 
carrying.  This  function  would,  of  course,  be  performed 
just  as  well  by  a rectangular  supporting  member.  The 


Plate  XII. 


A.  Tf;mple  of  Neptune,  Paestuji 


B.  Erechtheum,  Athens 


The  Pbihciple  of  Classical  Architectuee. 


79 


round  column,  therefore,  is  not  necessary  tectonicallj^, 
but  surely  artistically,  that  is,  according  to  the  Classical 
principle  of  form.  For  it  is  important  that  the  function 
of  carrying  be  also  expressed,  made  perceptible — that 
is,  made  directly  intelligible  for  our  organically  de- 
termined sense.  To  this  organic  perceptive  power  the 
rectangular  pillar  would  he  a dead  mass,  on  which  our 
sense  of  vitality,  our  organic  imagination  could  nowhere 
take  hold  [PI.  XI,  C].  In  the  case  of  the  round  column, 
however,  the  imagination  takes  hold  at  once  and  ex- 
periences in  participation  the  drama  of  forces  that  is 
enacted  in  this  carrying  and  supporting  member.  The 
emphasis  of  the  height  over  the  breadth  is  immediately 
decisive.  If  we  were  going  to  interpret  this  difference 
of  dimensions  organically,  we  should  say  that  the  ac- 
tivity of  compression  is  subordinated  to  the  activity  of 
self -erection.  We  feel  how  the  column  pulls  itself  to- 
gether, how  it  concentrates  its  entire  forces  from  all 
sides  toward  the  axis,  in  order  to  exercise  with  all  its 
might  the  vertical,  rising  activity  condensed  in  the 
axis — in  short,  we  feel  how  it  carries.  Absolutely  no 
clearer,  more  convincing,  more  satisfactory  expression 
of  secure  and  unrestricted  carrying  can  be  conceived  than 
that  represented  in  the  column.  With  the  rectangular 
support  we  should  only  be  able  to  ascertain  the  fact 
that  it  carries  (for  the  effect  would  convince  us  of  that) ; 
but  here  we  feel  it,  here  we  believe  it,  here  it  spells 
necessity  for  us,  because  it  is  brought  into  contact  with 
our  organic  imagination. 

To  this  is  added  the  accentuation  of  the  vertical  I 
direction  by  the  system  of  fluting.  One  need  only 
imagine  this  fluting  following  the  column  in  its  horizon- 
tal curve  to  see  that  then  instead  of  the  impression  of 
lightly  rising,  there  would  result  the  impression  of  sink- 
ing, of  collapsing  under  the  burden.  The  passive 
function  of  burdening  would  in  that  case  be  more 
strongly  expressed  than  the  active  function  of  carrying, 
and  the  expression  of  freedom  in  the  adjustment  of 
burden  and  poAver  would  be  choked. 

We  see,  therefore,  how  the  Greek  form  will,  which 
represents  the  harmonic  Classical  consciousness  of  • 


80 


Foem  Problems  of  the  Gothic. 


unity  between  man  and  outer  world  and  consequently 
culminates  in  the  presentation  of  organic  life,  is  ab- 
sorbed in  the  effort  to  make  every  tectonic  necessity  into 
an  organic  necessity.  This  etfort  expresses  itself  in 
most  imposing  fashion  in  the  general  arrangement  of 
the  Greek  temple  [PI.  XII,  A],  notably  in  the  relation 
of  cella  and  peristyle.  Here  we  have  a drastic  example 
of  how  independent  the  architectural  principle  is  from 
the  architectural  purpose,  and  of  how  far  it  soars 
above  the  latter.  For  the  Greeks  the  practical  architec- 
tural purpose  was  only  to  create  for  the  cult  statue  of 
the  deity  an  enclosed  space  protected  from  the  weather. 
Yet  this  purpose  of  space  creation  could  not  be  used 
aesthetically;  for  the  Greek  had  no  artistic  relation  to 
space.  The  specialty  of  the  Hellene  was,  rather,  sculp- 
ture, taken  not  in  a strict  but  in  a transferred  sense — 
that  is,  all  Greek  thought,  feeling,  and  experience  aimed 
at  compact,  clearly  circumscribed  corporeality,  at  a 
fixed,  enclosed,  substantial  modality.  So  he  had  re- 
moulded the  whole  incomprehensibility  of  the  world  into 
clear  comprehensibility.  Greek  gods,  Greek  thought, 
Greek  art — all  retain  the  same  immediately  comprehen- 
sible sculptural  quality.  Everything  immaterial  is  re- 
jected; and  space  is  the  thing  that  is  really  immaterial. 
It  is  something  spiritual,  incomprehensible;  and  only 
when  the  Greek  mind  loses  its  naive,  sure,  sculptural 
C[uality  through  contact  with  the  Orient  in  Hellenistic 
times,  only  then  does  the  Greek  tectonics,  independent 
of  space,  become  an  architecture  that  creates  space. 

The  creation  of  the  cella,  therefore,  could  not 
satisfy  the  Greek  form  will;  the  architectural  prin- 
ciple got  no  encouragement  from  the  architectural  pur- 
pose. The  Greeks  had  to  go  far  out  of  their  way  to 
convert  the  practical  requirements  into  artistic  require- 
ments. With  the  peristyle  they  gave  to  the  core,  re- 
quired by  the  practical  purpose,  a mask  independent  of 
any  practical  purpose,  a dress  that  had  no  object  but 
to  correspond  to  the  Greek  sense  of  aesthetic  fitness. 
The  core  of  the  building,  as  such,  falls  into  the  back- 
ground aesthetically;  what  shows  is  only  the  tectonic 
outer  frame  in  its  clearly  rhythmic,  coniprehensi- 


The  Principle  of  Classical  Architecture. 


81 


ble,  sculptural  quality.  Thus,  a mere  building  of  utility 
becomes  a work  of  art. 

The  fundamental  process  of  all  pure  tectonics  is  the 
adjustment  of  the  encumbering  superstructure  to  the 
carrying  supports.  This  at  bottom  quite  abrupt,  al- 
most cataclysmic  meeting  is  organically  refined  and  mod- 
erated by  the  Greek  architectural  sense,  is  changed  by 
the  system  of  column  and  architrave  into  a settled  and 
pleasing  spectacle  of  living  forces  which  our  eye  follows 
with  an  inner  feeling  of  satisfaction.  The  strict  logic 
of  construction  is  recast  as  a living  organism,  the  exact 
counterpoint  of  lifeless  architectonic  laws  becomes  a 
harmonious  rhythm  corresponding  to  the  inner  rhythm 
of  Greek  sensibility. 

The  tendency  to  temper  organically  the  adjustment 
of  burden  and  power,  which  adjustment  is,  further,  al- 
ways one  of  vertical  and  horizontal  directions,  is  ex- 
pressed by  the  very  creation  of  the  gable.  There  is  no 
immediate  practical  need  of  this,  only  an  aesthetic  one. 
Its  aesthetic  function  is  to  terminate  satisfactorily  for 
organic  feeling  that  sharp  clash  of  the  horizontal  and 
the  vertical  systems  which  for  static  reasons  is  in- 
evitable. 

What  the  tympanum  does  on  a large  scale  is  per- 
formed on  a small  scale  by  the  members  mediating  be- 
tween the  encumbering  superstructure  and  the  carrying 
supports,  particularly  by  the  capitals.  The  organically 
disciplined  sense  longs  for  a moderation  of  the  clash 
between  burden  and  jiower,  for  an  organic  mediation  of 
the  mechanical  and  unmediated,  and  it  is  precisely  the 
capital  which  assumes  the  task  of  mediating  and  modera- 
ting. It  makes  the  clash  less  cataclysmic  liecause  it 
leads  up  to  it  and  lets  it  die  away.  It  would  take  us 
too  far  afield  to  investigate  in  this  connection  the  or- 
ganic interpretative  force  of  the  details  of  the  Greek 
system  of  column  and  architrave.  Yet  we  do  wish  to 
point  out  merely  the  difference  between  the  Doric  and 
the  Ionic  orders,  because  it  has  already  come  up  in  deal- 
ing with  ornament  and  has  shown  us  how  the  Doric 
element  in  Hellenism  forms  the  bond  between  Mediter- 


82 


Form  Problems  of  the  Gothic. 


ranean  and  northern  culture.  In  the  Doric  temple 
[PI.  XII,  A]  it  is  characteristic  that  the  organic  re- 
tinement  of  constructive  processes  has  not  yet  gone  so 
far.  A certain  masculine  ponderousness,  a certain 
masculine  reserve,  keeps  the  Doric  mind  from  freeing 
itself  too  much  from  the  structural  constraint  of  archi- 
tecture. It  still  longs  for  a sublimity  which  is  organic- 
ally quite  inexpressible  and  is  present  only  in  abstract 
language.  It  still  betrays  its  northern  origin  in  this 
propensity  to  a superhuman,  supersensuous  pathos.  Of 
the  Doric  order  Taine  laconically  says:  “Trois  ou 
quatre  formes  elementaires  de  la  geometrie  font  tons  les 
frais.” 

This  quality  of  pathos  involves  the  stronger  ex- 
pression of  the  encumbering  than  of  the  carrying  forces 
in  the  Doric.  The  pressure  of  the  burden  is  so  heavy 
that  the  columns  receiving  it  must  be  broadened;  they 
swell  out  stoutly  toward  the  bottom  and  so  divert  to  the 
stylobate  the  pressure  they  themselves  cannot  master. 
They  do  not  echo  away  within  themselves  as  do  the 
Ionic  columns,  which  are  plainly  separated  from  the 
stylobate  b}''  a confining  basis,  but  they  reverberate 
underground,  as  it  were. 

The  structural  conservatism  of  the  Doric  temple 
and  the  consequent  compactness  of  its  general  propor- 
tions make  it  ponderous,  to  be  sure,  but  they  add  its 
peerless  solemnity  and  majestic  aloofness,  as  well.  In 
the  Ionic  order  [PI.  XII,  B]  everything  becomes  lighter, 
more  fluent,  livelier,  more  supple,  and  more  nearly 
human.  What  is  lost  in  stately  seriousness  is  gained  in 
expressive  sprightliness.  There  is  no  more  holding 
back  because  of  the  demands  of  the  material  itself,  that 
is,  because  of  structural  laws.  The  stone  is  com- 
pletely sensualized,  completely  filled  with  organic  life, 
and  all  the  restraint  that  makes  up  the  djmamics  and 
the  grandeur  of  the  Doric  order  is  almost  playfully 
overcome.  We  experience  the  Doric  temple  as  an  im- 
posing drama,  the  Ionic  as  a felicitous  spectacle  of 
forces  in  free  play. 


The  Principle  of  Gothic  Architecture 

E get  the  best  transition  to  the  investigation  of  the 
^ principle  of  Gothic  architecture  and  its  wholly 
different  nature  from  Greek  tectonics  by  making  clear 
to  ourselves  the  relation  of  the  two  kinds  of  architec- 
ture to  their  material— stone.  Architecture  begins  to  be 
art  only  when  it  is  no  longer  satisfied  to  employ  stone 
as  mere  material  for  any  sort  of  practical  purpose  and 
to  handle  it  merely  according  to  the  dictates  of  its 
material  laws,  only  when  it  tries  to  extract  from  these 
dead  material  laws  an  expression  corresponding  to  a de- 
finite a priori  artistic  will.  We  have  already  seen  that 
Greek  art  animates  these  dead  laws  of  stone  and  makes 
a wonderful  expressive  organism,  just  as  it  animates 
in  the  case  of  ornament  the  dead  abstract  line  of  primi- 
tive art  and  makes  an  organically  rounded  and  organic- 
ally rhythmic  line.  It  makes  the  rigid  unsensuous  logic 
of  construction  into  a sensuously  perceptible  and  sen- 
suously comprehensible  play  of  living  forces.  Logical 
laws  and  organic  necessity  are  here  brought  into  a 
synthesis  which  completely  corresponds  to  thfiL^other- 
ideal  Classical  syntheses  of  concept  and  percept,  of 
thought  and  experience,  of  intelligence  and  sense.  This 
synthesis  is  ideal  because  neither  of  the  factors  form- 
ing it  is  submerged;  they  are  interrelated,  cooperative, 
and  complementary.  That  is  equivalent  to  saying  that 
this  architectural  synthesis  is  not  obtained  by  violating 
the  stone  and  its  material  laws,  but  the  structural  laws 
pass  imperceptibly  and  without  violence  into  the  organic 
laws.  Along  with  full  emphasis  of  the  stone  and  its 
material  laws.  Classical  architecture  succeeds  in  attain- 
ing, therefore,  its  living  expressional  value. 

To  emphasize  the  stone  means  to  express  architec- 
tonically the  adjustment  of  burden  and  power.  Since 
the  essential  quality  of  stone  is  weight,  its  architectonic 
employment  is  built  up  on  the  law  of  gravity.  The 
primitive  builder  made  use  of  the  weight  of  stone  only 

(83) 


84 


Form  Problems  of  the  Gothic. 


for  practical  purposes,  but  the  Classical  builder  for 
artistic  ones  as  well.  The  latter  emphasized  it  fiurpose- 
ly,  since  he  made  the  adjustment  of  burden  and  power 
the  artistic  principle  of  the  building.  He  emphasized 
the  stone  by  making  its  structural  laws  organically  liv- 
ing laws,  that  is,  by  sensualizing  it.  All  that  Greek 
architecture  achieved  in  expression  it  achieved  with 
the  stone,  by  means  of  the  stone;  all  that  Gothic  archi- 
tecture achieved  in  expression  it  achieved — here  the 
full  contrast  comes  out — in  spite  of  the  stone.  The 
expression  of  the  Gothic  does  not  rest  upon  its  material 
but  arises  only  through  its  denial  of  this,  only  through 
its  dematerialization. 

If  we  glance  at  the  Gothic  cathedral  [PI.  I],  we  see 
only  a kind  of  petrified  vertical  movement  in  which  the 
law  of  gravity  seems  to  be  wholly  eliminated.  In 
contrast  to  the  natural  downward  pressure  of  the  stone, 
we  see  only  a prodigiously  strong-  movement  of  forces 
upward.  There  is  no  wall,  no  mass,  to  communicate  to 
us  the  impression  of  a fixed  material  existence;  only  a 
thousand  individnal  forces  speak  to  us,  and  of  their 
materiality  we  are  scarcely  conscious,  for  they  act  only 
as  bearers  of  an  immaterial  expression,  as  bearers  of 
an  unrestricted  upward  movement.  We  look  in  vain 
for  an  indication,  wanted  by  our  feeling,  of  the  relation- 
ship between  burden  and  power.  No  burden  seems  to  ex- 
ist at  all.  We  see  only  free  and  unhindered  forces  that 
strive  heavemvard  with  a prodigious  elan.  Here  the 
stone  is  apparently  rid  of  all  its  material  weight.  Here 
it  is  only  the  vehicle  of  an  unsensuous,  incorporeal  ex- 
pression. In  short,  here  it  has  become  dematerialized. 

This  Gothic  dematerialization  of  the  stone  in  favor 
of  a purely  spiritual  expressiveness  corresponds  to  the 
degeometrization  of  the  abstract  line,  such  as  we  in- 
dicated in  the  ornament,  in  favor  of  an  identical  ex- 
pressional  purpose. 

The  antonym  of  matter  is  spirit.  To  dematerialize 
stone  means  to  spiritualize  it.  And  with  that  state- 
ment we  have  clearly  contrasted  the  tendency  of  Gothic 
architecture  to  spiritualize  with  the  tendency  of  Greek 
architecture  to  sensualize. 


Thei  Principle  of  Gtothic  Architecture. 


85 


The  Greek  builder  approaches  his  material,  the 
stone,  with  a certain  sensuousness;  therefore,  he  lets 
the  material  speak  in  its  own  right.  On  the  contrary, 
the  Gothic  builder  approaches  the  stone  with  a desire  for 
purely  spiritual  expression,  that  is,  with  structural 
intentions  which  are  conceived  artistically  and  indepen- 
dently of  the  stone,  and  for  which  the  stone  amounts  to 
no  more  than  external  and  unprivileged  means  of  reali- 
zation. The  result  is  an  abstract  system  of  construction 
in  which  the  stone  plays  only  a practical,  not  an  artistic 
role.  The  mechanical  forces  slumbering  in  the  broad 
massiveness  of  the  stone  have  been  awakened  by  the 
Gothic  expressional  will,  have  become  autonomous,  and 
have  so  far  devoured  the  mass  of  the  stone  that  in 
place  of  the  visible  firmness  of  material  appears  only 
the  statics  of  computation.  In  short,  out  of  the  stone 
as  mass,  with  its  heaviness,  comes  a bare  structural 
framework  of  stone.  The  art  of  building,  which  had 
been  a stone-layer’s  art,  becomes  a stone-cutter’s  art; 
it  becomes  a non-sensuous  art  of  construction.  The 
contrast  between  the  organism  of  Classical  architecture 
and  the  system  of  Gothic  architecture  becomes  the 
contrast  between  a living,  breathing  body  and  a skeleton. 

The  Greek  architecture  is  applied  construction,  the 
Gothic  is  pure  construction.  What  is  constructive  in 
the  former  is  only  means  to  the  practical  end;  in  the 
latter  it  is  the  end  in  itself,  for  it  agrees  with  the  artis- 
tic expressional  aim.  Since  the  Gothic  longing  for 
expression  could  utter  itself  in  the  abstract  speech  of 
structural  relations,  the  construction  was  pursued  for 
its  own  sake  far  beyond  its  practical  purpose.  In  this 
sense  one  might  describe  Gothic  architecture  as  an  ob- 
jectless fury  of  construction,  for  it  has  no  direct  object, 
no  directly  practical  purpose ; it  serves  only  the  artistic 
expressional  will.  And  we  are  acquainted  with  the  goal 
of  this  Gothic  expressional  will;  it  is  the  longing  to 
be  absorbed  in  a non-sensuous,  mechanical  activity  of 
the  highest  pow’er.  Later,  in  the  discussion  of  scholas- 
ticism, that  phenomenon  parallel  to  Gothic  architecture, 
we  shall  see  how  it,  too,  truly  reflected  the  Gothic 
expressional  will.  Here,  too,  is  an  excess  of  structural 


86 


Form  Problems  of  the  Gothic. 


siibtle£y  without  direct  object,  that,  is,  without  aiming  at 
knowledge  (for  knowledge  is  indeed  already  determined 
by  the  revealed  truth  of  church  and  dogma) ; here, 
too,  is  an  excess  of  structural  subtlety  which  serves 
no  purpose  except  the  creation  of  a continuously  in- 
creasing, infinite  activity  in  which  the  spirit  loses  itself 
as  in  intoxication.  In  the  scholasticism,  as  in  the 
architecture,  there  is  the  same  logical  frenzy,  the  same 
madness  with  method  in  it,  the  same  outlay  of  reason- 
ing for  an  unreasonable  purpose.  And  if  we  recall  now 
the  confused  chaos  of  northern  ornament,  which  offered 
a kind  of  abstract,  ethereal  picture  of  an  endless, 
aimless  activity,  we  see  how  in  this  primeval,  wakening, 
dull,  artistic  impulse  to  action  there  was  only  being  pre- 
pared what  was  later  perfected  with  such  high  refine- 
ment in  architecture  and  scholasticism.  The  uniformity 
of  the  form  will  through  many  centuries  comes  out 
clearly. 

Yet  it  would  be  a great  mistake  to  consider  scholas- 
ticism and  Gothic  architecture  as  nothing  but  logical 
juggling.  They  are  such  only  for  one  who  fails  to  see 
the  expressional  will  which,  standing  behind  this  purely 
stractural,  or  purely  logical,  system  and  using  these 
structural  elements  only  as  means,  aspires  to  the  tran- 
scendental. Although  we  were  just  now  saying  that 
the  structural  part  of  Gothic  architecture  is  an  end  in 
itself,  that  is  true  only  in  so  far  as  this  is  precisely 
the  most  suitable  vehicle  of  the  artistic  expressional 
will.  For,  in  fact,  in  the  Gothic  the  structural  proc- 
esses are  not  directly  intelligible  to  us  at  all  by  mere 
observation,  but  only  indirectly  intelligible,  only  by  a 
sort  of  computation  on  the  drawing  board.  As  we 
look,  we  are  scarcely  conscious  of  the  structural  signi- 
ficance of  the  individual  member  of  the  Gothic  building; 
on  the  contrary,  the  individual  member  affects  the 
observer  only  as  the  mimic  bearer  of  an  abstract  ex- 
pression. In  fine,  therefore,  the  sum  total  of  logical 
calculations  is  not  offered  for  its  own  sake,  but  for  the 
sake  of  a superlogical  effect.  The  resultant  expression 
goes  far  beyond  the  means  with  which  it  was  attained, 
and  we  inwardly  experience  the  view  of  a Gothic  cathe- 


The  Pkihciple  of  Gothic  Architect uee. 


87 


dral  not  as  a spectacle  of  structural  processes  but  as  an 
outbreak  of  transcendental  longing  expressed  in  stone. 
A movement  of  superhuman  momentum  sweeps  us  away 
with  it  in  the  intoxication  of  an  endless  willing  and 
craving;  we  lose  the  feeling  of  our  earthly  limitations, 
we  are  absorbed  into  an  infinite  movement  that  obliter- 
ates all  consciousness  of  the  finite. 

In  its  art  every  people  provides  itself  with  ideal 
possibilities  for  the  liberation  of  its  sense  of  vitality. 
The  Gothic  man’s  sense  of  vitality  is  depressed  by 
dualistic  distraction  and  dissatisfaction.  To  relieve 
this  depression  he  needs  the  highest  state  of  exaltation, 
the  highest  quality  of  pathos.  He  builds  his  minsters 
into  infinity,  not  because  of  playful  joy  in  construction, 
but  that  the  sight  of  this  vertical  movement,  far  ex- 
ceeding all  human  measure,  may  set  free  in  him  that 
frenzy  of  feeling  in  which  alone  he  can  drown  his  inner 
discord,  in  which  alone  he  can  find  happiness.  The 
beauty  of  the  finite  is  enough  to  raise  the  spirits  of 
Classical  man;  the  dualistically  distracted,  hence,  tran- 
scendentally  disposed  Gothic  man  can  detect  the  touch 
of  the  eternal  only  in  the  infinite.  Classical  archi- 
tecture culminates,  therefore,  in  beauty  of  expression. 
Gothic  architecture  in  power  of  expression;  the  former 
speaks  the  language  of  organic  existence,  the  latter  the 
language  of  abstract  values. 

Posterity  has  seen  only  the  logical  values  of  Gothic 
and  has  had  no  eye  for  the  superlogical,  except  when 
it  has  reduced  this  superlogical  to  tlie  plane  of  the 
modern  romantic  mood  and  thereby  quite  overlooked  the 
logical  values.  Apart  from  this  romantic  mood  we  find 
that  Gothic  architecture  has  been  appreciated  only  as 
structural  achievement.  It  was  particularly  discredited 
by  its  epigones,  the  representatives  of  the  Gothic  of 
the  modern  German  architect,  who  were  active  in  the 
nineteenth  century.  By  that  time  people  understood  the 
Gothic  only  in  word,  not  in  spirit.  Since  they  no  longer 
had  any  psychical  relation  to  the  transcendental  ex- 
pressional  will,  they  prized  the  Gothic  only  on  account 
of  its  structural  and  decorative  values,  and,  restoring 
and  building  anew,  they  created  that  dry,  lifeless,  empty 


88 


Form  Problems  of  the  Gothic. 


Gothic  that  does  not  seem  the  fruit  of  the  spirit,  but 
of  a calculating  machine. 

Only  modern  steel  construction  [PI.  XIII]  has 
brought  hack  a certain  inner  understanding  of  the 
Gothic.  For  in  it  people  have  been  confronted  again 
with  an  architectural  form  in  which  the  artistic  ex- 
pression is  supplied  by  the  method  of  construction  it- 
self. Yet,  despite  all  outer  relationship,  an  important 
inner  ditference  is  discernible.  For  in  the  modern  case 
it  is  the  material  itself  that  directly  encourages  such 
structural  one-sidedness,  while  the  Gothic  arrived  at 
such  ideas,  not  by  means  of  the  material,  but  in  spite 
of  the  material,  in  spite  of  the  stone.  In  other  words, 
underlying  the  artistic  appearance  of  modern  buildings 
of  steel  construction  is  no  form  will  that,  for  definite 
reasons,  emphasizes  structure,  but  only  a new  material. 
One  may  only  go  so  far  as  to  say,  perhaps,  that  it  is  an 
atavistic  echo  of  that  old  Gothic  form  will  which  prompts 
modern  northern  man  to  an  artistic  emphasis  of  this 
material  and  even  allows  the  hope  of  a new  architectural 
style  to  hang  on  its  appropriate  employment. 

In  Gothic  the  need  for  expression  had  been  the 
primary  element,  and  the  material,  the  stone,  did  not 
favor  it,  but  offered  resistance.  It  won  its  way  in  spite 
of  its  dependence  on  the  stone,  and  it  thereby  intro- 
duced a decisive,  new  phase  into  an  architectural  de- 
velopment, which  had,  likewise,  been  stone  architecture, 
for  the  most  part,  and,  as  such,  had  been  an  architecture 
of  either  organic  articulation  like  the  Greek  [PI.  XII] . 
or  structureless  mass  like  the  Oriental,  or  a mixture  of 
the  two  like  the  Boman  [PI.  XIV.  B].  That  the  Gothic 
succeeded,  after  all  these  styles  which  really  embody  the 
tradition  of  stone  construction,  in  creating  an  abso- 
lutely new  thing,  namely,  the  stnictural  scaffold,  the 
mechanical  articulation — accordingly,  the  exact  opposite 
of  organic  articulation — this  was  the  achievement  in 
which  the  Gothic  externalized  its  highest  and  inmost 
louging  for  expression. 


Plate  XIII 


WooLwoETii  Building,  New  York 


The  Fortunes  of  the  Gothic  Form  Will 


OW  that  we  have  become  acquainted  with  the 
^ general  character  of  the  northern,  Gothic  form 
will  in  its  clearest  expression  in  the  early  ornament  and 
in  the  mature  Gothic  architecture,  we  shall  follow  the 
fortunes  of  this  form  will.  It  is  the  great  chapter  of 
the  development  of  mediaeval  art  to  which  we  open,  a 
chapter  which  has  never  come  completely  to  its  own 
because  of  the  one-sidedness  of  the  Renaissance  view- 
point inherited  by  the  modern  historian. 

In  the  main,  these  fortunes  of  the  Gothic  form  will 
are  determined  by  its  natural  growth  and  strengthening 
on  the  one  hand,  and  on  the  other  by  its  contact  with 
foreign  stylistic  phenomena,  among  which,  without  ex- 
cluding vague  and  scattered  Oriental  influences,  Roman 
art  with  the  Classical  coloring  olf  its  form  will  comes 
into  special  consideration.  When  Roman  culture  first 
takes  effect  in  the  north  in  the  early  Christian  cen- 
turies, the  interesting  play  of  the  adjustment  of  north 
and  south,  of  Gothic  and  Classic,  begins;  the  rich  con- 
tent of  this  furnishes  the  whole  drift  of  the  development 
of  mediaeval  art.  Roman  provincial  art,  the  art  of  the 
barbarian  invasions,  Merovingian  art,  Carolingian  art, 
Romanesque  art,  and  Gothic  art  (in  the  narrower  sense 
of  the  school  concept)  are  acts  in  this  play.  The  last 
act,  the  setting  of  which  is  the  European  Renaissance, 
shows  the  collapse  of  the  Gothic  and  the  fall  of  the 
national  northern  sense  of  form.  We  can  only  briefly 
sketch  the  contents  of  these  single  acts. 

To  the  political  and  cultural  supremacy  of  the 
Roman  conquerors  corresponds,  of  course,  their  artis- 
tic supremacy,  as  well.  At  first  the  native  artistic  sensi- 
bility completely  gives  way  before  this  supremacy  as 
expressed  in  Roman  provincial  art  [PI.  XIV,  B].  It 
finds  it  impossible  to  take  hold  anywhere  and  prove 
itself.  It  ventures  forth  only  very  gradually  and  seeks 

(89) 


90 


Form  Problems  of  the  Gothic. 


to  get  its  dues  in  rather  inconspicuous  places.  In  time, 
however,  there  arises  a Teutonic-Eoman  ornament  in 
which  the  northern  elements  almost  equal  the  Roman. 
The  old  northern  linear  forms  crop  up  everywhere  in 
these  foreign  artistic  forms  and  try  to  impress  their 
soul  upon  the  strange  body.  In  fact,  the  northern  form 
will  gradnally  comes  to  feel  so  strong  that  it  dares 
assert  its  independence  in  the  face  of  the  invading 
Roman  art.  It  shows  this  independence,  for  example, 
in  that  it  rejects  the  most  characteristic  element  of 
Roman  decoration  and  the  peculiar  bearer  of  the  Roman 
Classical  sense  of  form,  namely,  the  ornamental  plant 
motive.  With  few  exceptions,  this  specifically  organic 
product  does  not  enter  into  the  early  Teutonic-Roman 
hybrid  art.  Then  the  period  of  the  barbarian  invasions 
naturally  adds  to  the  h3dirid  character  of  northern  art 
production.  The  most  diverse  influences  intermingle, 
everything  is  in  ferment.  The  greatest  paradoxes  stand 
side  by  side,  but  the  zeal  for  expansion  of  the  northern 
sense  of  form  is  never  to  be  overlooked  in  these  mix- 
tures. The  stanch  harshness  of  these  half  barbaric, 
half  Roman  art  products  shows  that  the  struggle  is  no 
longer  secret  feud,  but  open  warfare  in  which  each 
asserts  its  place;  hence,  the  powerful  splendor  of  this 
style.  Then  the  Merovingian  period,  with  its  Anglo- 
Saxon,  Irish,  Scandinavian,  and  North  Italian  parallel 
phenomena,  shows  that  northern  artistic  feeling  has 
ultimately  got  the  upper  hand.  It  brings  to  full  bloom 
that  linear  fantasy  [PI.  'VMII],  interspersed  with  items 
of  actuality,  which  Ave  have  discussed  at  length  in  an 
earlier  chapter  because  it  offers  the  best  basis  for  the 
investigation  of  the  whole  style  phenomenon.  But  even 
in  the  Merovingian  period  plant  motives  have  already 
penetrated  early  northern  ornament  [PI.  XIY,  A].  Un- 
der the  influence  of  the  Carolingian  Renaissance  the 
old  indigenous  zoomorphic  ornament  actually  begins  to 
recede  before  the  new  plant  ornament.  This  is,  never- 
theless, a movement  lacking  native  soil ; the  Carolingian 
Renaissance  is  an  experiment  of  the  court;  it  finds  no 
anchorage  in  popular  consciousness.  This  premature 
experiment  launches  the  northern  artistic  sense  into  a 


Plate  XIV. 


B.  Porta  Nigil^,  Trier 


C.  S.  AroLLijMARE  IN  Classe,  Ravenna 


Fortunes  of  the  Gothic  Form  Will. 


91 


transitory  state  of  complete  disorientation,  which  only 
at  the  end  of  the  period  yields  to  a slowly  grow  ing  sense 
of  security.  These  circumstances  enable  us  to  form  a 
judgment  of  this  interesting  intermezzo.  We  can  agree 
with  Woermann’s  criticism:  “Except  for  some  crea- 
tions in  the  field  of  architecture,  some  w'orks  of  the 
goldsmith,  some  pages  of  manuscripts  decorated  without 
figures,  Carolingian-Ottonian  art  has  produced  nothing 
for  posterity  to  go  on  with.  It  is  precisely  and  pre- 
eminently an  epigonous  art,  with  a language  of  form 
and  of  color  that,  in  spite  of  its  deep  and  broadened 
content,  and  in  spite  of  its  often  splendid  outer,  general 
effect,  is  but  barbaric  stammering  in  the  sounds  of  a 
past  irretrievably  lost  and,  moreover,  racially  foreign 
to  the  Germanic  north.  The  youthful,  natural  sounds, 
that  here  and  there  half  unconsciously  try  to  break 
through,  long  die  awmy  unheard.  Only  at  the  very  end 
of  this  period  do  they  commence  to  be  more  frequent 
and  more  distinct.” 

We  must  give  closer  attention  to  the  following  phase 
of  the  process  of  evolution,  to  the  Eomanesque  style 
[PI.  XVIII]  ; for  it  already  represents  the  Middle  Ages 
with  full  strength  and  with  consciousness  of  independent 
culture  when  northwestern  Europe  has  seized  with 
strong  grip  the  reins  of  development.  Since  we  are 
going  to  devote  a special  discussion  to  the  architectural 
development,  it  need  only  be  stated  here  that  the  Bonian- 
esque  style  is  a very  radical  and  happy  northern  modifi- 
cation of  the  world  of  form  handed  dow-n  by  the  ancient 
east.  In  spite  of  all  the  dependence  of  its  fundamental 
structure  upon  antique  tradition,  however,  it  w'ears  a 
pronounced  northern  character.  The  foreign  artistic 
shape  of  the  basilica,  which  w'as  imposed  upon  the  north 
by  the  cultural  superiority  of  Rome  and  her  predomi- 
nant ecclesiastical  position,  is  already  completely  sat- 
urated by  the  Gothic  form  will,  wliich,  in  the  task  of  per- 
meating this  extraneous  artistic  shape  with  its  spirit 
and  soul,  continually  gathers  strength  until,  finally,  in 
the  intoxication  of  power  of  the  great  Gothic  centuries, 
it  resolutely  abandons  the  extraneous  artistic  shape 
entirely  and  creates  its  own  magnificent  world  of  ex- 


92  Form  Problems  of  the  Gothic. 

pression,  which  opposes  to  the  antique  tradition  some- 
thing wholly  new  and  independent.  This  is  the  Gothic 
proper,  the  Gothic  in  the  narrower  school  sense,  the 
ultimate  emancipation  from  all  that  is  Classic. 

And  in  this,  its  highest  and  purest  cultivation,  the 
northern  sense  of  form  conquers  all  Europe.  The  north 
is  at  this  time  culturally  and  artistically  triumphant  in 
the  adjustment  of  north  and  south,  which  is  the  real 
content  of  the  whole  mediaeval  development.  But  it 
would  seem  as  if  the  north  has  spent  itself  in  this 
highest  exertion.  The  very  form  will  of  the  north,  ar- 
rived at  its  apogee,  has  exhausted  itself;  it  is  at  the 
end  of  its  creative  possibilities.  Its  mission  is  fultilled 
and  the  Latins  of  the  south,  who  have  meanwhile  re- 
covered both  politically  and  culturally  from  the  northern 
irruption  and  have  gathered  their  dispersed  forces 
for  a new  culture  and  a new  art,  have  an  easy  game 
against  the  north,  wLicli  has  spent  itself.  The  response 
which  the  experiment  of  the  Carolingian  Renaissance 
failed  to  get  is  ready  now  that  the  northern  form  energy 
has  slackened.  Cultural  supremacy  determines  the 
victory.  For  the  mediaeval  culture,  which  has  not  yet 
knoAvn  any  differentiation  of  the  individual  (the  in- 
dividual only  ventures  to  differentiate  himself  from  the 
community  when  dualistic  anxieties  have  been  overcome 
and  the  relation  of  man  to  world  has  reached  a state 
of  reconciliation  and  security)  now  encounters  a new 
culture  which  has  set  free  all  the  wealth  of  the  indi- 
vidual and,  no  longer  curbed  by  any  dogmatic  bias,  has 
created  values  of  spiritual  progress  which  must  seem 
an  attractive  ideal  to  northern  man  with  his  mediaeval 
limitations.  His  yearning  for  salvation,  which,  exhaust- 
ed by  enormous  exertions,  has  lost  its  great  dynamics, 
believes  now  it  will  find  satisfaction  so  near  at  hand 
as  this.  Northern  transcendentalism  is  diluted  into  a 
mere  trans-Alpinism,  a cultural  ultramontanism.  That 
very  dualistic  distraction  which  has  formerly  been 
drowned  in  the  great  mediaeval  transcendental  art  now 
drives  northern  man  toward  the  foreign  Renaissance 
ideal.  He  has  been  trying  to  deaden  his  inner  misery. 


Plate  XV. 


Judith  with  the  Head  of  Holofeknes.  Painting  by  Lucas  Ckanach, 

THE  EldEK 

{Metropolitan  Museum  of  Art.  Neiv  York) 


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Fortunes  oe  the  , Gothic  Form  Will. 


93 


his  discontent  of  soul,  in  the  sublime  pathos  of  the 
Gothic,  in  its  unnatural  convulsive  tension,  in  its 
mighty  intoxication  of  feeling,  but  only  the  compact 
community  has  been  able  to  endure  such  tension.  Now 
that  economic  development,  world  trade,  urban  life,  and 
other  cultural  factors  are  destroying  the  cohesion  of  the 
great  communities  in  the  north,  as  well,  a more  intimate, 
more  human  satisfaction  has  to  be  sought.  The  Gothic, 
in  its  innermost  nature,  has  been  irrational,  superra- 
tional,  transcendental.  Now  the  earnest  rationality  of 
Classical  harmony  and  Classical  orderliness  presents 
itself  as  a seductive  ideal  to  northern  man,  who  has 
become  an  individual.  Now  he,  who  is  no  longer  capa- 
ble of  the  ideal  exuberance  of  transcendental  volition, 
hopes  in  that  lofty,  ideal  ratio  to  be  freed  from  him- 
self by  that  Classical  harmony,  which  is  to  him  so 
remote  and  almost  unattainable,  and  to  be  released 
from  his  inner  misery.  An  immediate  satisfaction,  a 
direct  naive  happiness,  is  denied  him.  His  happiness 
always  lies  (and  that  is  the  peculiar  northern  trans- 
cendentalism, constant  through  all  the  centuries)  in  a 
beyond,  in  something  superior  to  himself,  whether  this 
consists  in  the  heights  of  intoxication  or  in  the  attach- 
ment to  a foreign  ideal.  He  always  finds  himself  only 
by  losing  himself,  by  rising  superior  to  himself.  In 
this  riddle  lies  his  greatness  and  his  tragedy. 

One  can  also  state  the  difference  in  quality  between 
Gothic  transcendentalism  and  later  northern  ultramon- 
tanism  (Italianism)  by  saying  that,  with  the  Renais- 
sance, religious  ideals  have  been  supplanted  by  mere 
educational  ideals.  At  any  rate,  the  odium  of  being  a 
product  of  education  without  immediate  natural  back- 
ground attaches  to  the  whole  German  Renaissance  cul- 
ture. That  Is  valid  also  for  post-Gothie  art.  It,  too,  is 
rather  a nroduction  of  education  than  the  immediate 
product  of  genuine,  original  artistic  feeling  and  senti- 
ment. The  morbid  northern  yearning  for  education, 
this  disguised  and  weakened  transcendentalism,  sub- 
jugates the  northern  instinct  for  form,  and  the  result  is 
the  hybrid  picture  of  the  German  Renaissance,  or,  by 


94 


Form  Problems  of  the  Gothic. 


its  cultural  name,  German  humanism.  Art  becomes 
partly  inspired  by  literature,  partly  clogged  by  superfi- 
cial decoration.  A conscious  artistic  taste  is  creator 
now  instead  of  the  unconscious,  vigorous  will.  Of 
course,  this  characterization  of  the  German  Eenaissance 
is  applicable  only  to  the  usual  sort  of  thing,  only  to  the 
art  of  the  general  public,  as  it  is  introduced  by  Cranach, 
particularly  [PL  XV].  In  the  case  of  the  great  names. 
Purer,  Grunewald,  and  Holbein,  the  circumstances  are 
different.  For  if  one  observes  more  carefully,  they  are 
all  still  adhering  closely  to  the  Gothic.  Grunewald ’s 
Gothic  takes  the  guise  of  pictorial  pathos.  Holbein’s 
graphic  power  of  characterization  is,  as  we  have  already 
said  in  another  connection,  the  last  great  concentration 
of  the  northern  art  of  line  [PI.  XI,  A].  And  Dfirer? 
Yes,  Albrecht  Durer  is  no  less  than  the  martyr  of  this 
collision  of  two  fundamentally  incompatible  worlds  of 
artistic  expression  [PI.  XVI].  That  gives  the  great 
tragic  note  to  the  whole  course  of  his  development. 
That  he  could  not  give  up  himself  with  his  northern 
humanity,  that  he  should,  nevertheless,  fight  his  way 
with  full  force  through  his  discordant  temperament  to- 
ward that  new  world  whose  beginning  and  end  is 
harmony  and  beauty,  that  is  the  tragedy  which  makes 
him  so  great  and  so  true  a representative  of  the  north. 
For  his  is  the  specifically  northern  tragedy,  which  re- 
peats itself  under  ever  new  form  and  dress,  and  as  its 
last  martyr,  to  draw  an  example  from  our  familiar 
present,  we  northerners  honor  Hans  von  Marees  vfith 
his  great  fragmentary,  enigmatic  art. 

The  victorious  advance  of  the  Classical  sense  of 
form  which  follows  in  the  wake  of  the  great  Italian 
Renaissance  movement  leaves  the  Gothic  form  will  no 
time  to  subside  peacefully.  But  the  suppressed  Gothic 
form  energies,  which  are  rooted  in  so  great  a past,  are 
still  too  active  under  the  surface  to  vanish  so  silently 
from  the  scene.  Contemplative  humanism,  remote  from 
actuality,  is  the  privilege  of  satiated  beings  and  is 
unable  to  restrain  permanently  the  ferment  and  full 
development  of  popular  consciousness.  The  humanistic 
tendency  is  corrected  by  that  great  popular  movement 


Plate  XVI. 


ViKGix  AND  Child  with  St.  Anne.  Painting  by  ALiuiECiiT  Dubei! 

{Metropolitan  Museum  of  Art.  Neiu  York) 


% 


rfiV., 


Fortunes  op  the  Gothic  Form  Will. 


95 


which  leads  to  the  Reformation.  In  place  of  ideals  of 
education,  religious  ideals  return,  humanism  gives  way 
to  the  Reformation.  The  reaction  against  the  humanis- 
tic ideal  of  education,  with  its  Classical,  pagan  tinge, 
spreads  throughout  all  Europe  and  leaves  its  record  in 
art  in  the  phenomenon  of  the  Baroque.  The  transcen- 
dental character  of  this  style  [PI.  XVII]  is  already 
evident  from  the  external  circumstance  that  the  church 
— particularly  the  Society  of  Jesus— is  its  propagator 
and  carrier.  Its  quality  of  transcendental  pathos  plain- 
ly distinguishes  it  from  the  harmonious  calm  and 
equilibrium  of  the  Classical  style.  The  transcendental 
style  of  the  Gothic  is  succeeded,  therefore,  after  the 
intermezzo  of  the  Renaissance,  by  a transcendental  style 
again,  the  Baroque.  And  in  the  northern  Baroque  one 
plainly  seems  to  find  connections  with  the  Gothic.  This 
is  especially  true  if  one  thinks  of  the  late  Gothic,  which 
has  been  significantly  called  the  Baroque  of  the  Gothic. 
The  forms  of  the  northern  Renaissance  do  not  long 
retain  their  moderation.  They  are  very  quickly  extended 
into  restless,  impatient  scroll-work.  And  it  seems  as  if 
within  this  foreign  world  of  organic  art  the  old,  sup- 
pressed Gothic  fy)rm  energies  were  at  work  fermenting 
it  and  expanding  it.  The  impulse  to  pathos  in  the  Gothic 
will  seems  to  be  communicated  to  this  world  of  organic 
expression.  Animated  and  actuated  by  the  ever  more 
powerful  influx  of  this  northern  impulse,  the  art  forms 
of  the  German  Renaissance  gradually  quite  lose  that 
harmonious  stamp,  which  in  their  case  was  rather  lack 
of  character  than,  as  in  the  case  of  the  Italian  Renais- 
sance, positive  expression  of  will;  they  lose  that  har- 
monious polish,  and  once  more  the  stream  of  northern 
artistic  volition,  scorning  all  harmonious  proportion, 
rushes  through  the  world.  Again,  all  is  movement,  all 
impatient  activity,  all  pathos.  But  this  pathos  can  be 
expressed  only  by  exaggerating  and  stretching  the  or- 
ganic values  to  their  utmost ; the  way  back  to  the 
higher  and  more  gripping  pathos  of  abstract,  non- 
sensuous  values  is  blocked  by  the  Renaissance.  Thus, 
we  see  in  the  Baroque  the  last  effervescence  of  north- 
ern form  will,  a last  attempt  to  express  itself  even  in 


96 


Form  Problems  of  the  Gothic. 


an  inappropriate,  essentially  foreign  langTiage.  Then 
the  old  northern  art  of  line  and  movement  slowly  dies 
away  in  the  playful  scroll-work  of  the  Eococo. 

Finally,  in  order  to  recapitulate  the  evolution 
sketched  in  this  chapter,  I quote  a passage  from  an  acade- 
my lecture  by  Alexander  Conze,  the  Berlin  archaeolo- 
gist: “In  their  geometric  style,  with  its  play  of  meaning- 
less forms,  untold  generations  of  early  European  peoples 
have  felt  their  aesthetic  need  in  the  field  of  formative 
art  satisfied,  until,  one  after  another,  they  have  been 
drawn  by  southern  influence  into  the  circle  of  a richer 
world  of  artistic  forms  that  derives  from  the  countries 
at  the  eastern  end  of  the  Mediterranean.  But  their  in- 
nate artistic  sensibility  has  not  thereby  been  completely 
extinguished  at  once,  as  is  today  that  of  savages  when 
they  are  much  more  forcibly  subjected  to  contact  with 
more  highly  developed  culture.  In  Greece,  as  an  after 
effect  of  the  mood  of  the  old  geometric  style,  there  could 
grow  up  the  Doric  style,  in  which,  as  Taine  says,  ‘trois 
on  quatre  formes  elementaires  de  la  rjeometrie  font  tons 
les  fra-is.’  But  in  the  north  of  Europe,  in  spite  of  the 
introduction  of  Greco-Eoman  art,  the  vitality  of  the 
primitive  manner  is  unmistakable.  After  initial  defeat, 
aboriginal  character  remoulds  the  alien  forms  and 
presses  forward  in  the  Gothic  to  a glorious  outcome  of 
the  battle  of  the  two  artistic  Avorlds,  and  even  in  the 
Eococo  one  Avould  suspect  still  a last  dying  echo  after 
the  repeated  triumphs  of  the  Eenaissance.  In  like 
manner,  in  Mohammedan  art  an  outbreak  of  old  under- 
currents through  the  Greco-Eoman  covering  runs  paral- 
lel to  the  appearance  of  the  Gothic.  Such  far-reaching 
observations,  however,  could  be  fully  presented  only  by 
a discussion  of  the  historical  points  of  universal  signifi- 
cance in  the  general  history  of  art”  (Sitzungsbericht 
der  Berliner  Akademie  der  'VVissenscbaften,  11,  II, 
1897). 


Mexico  Cathkdhal 


The  Romanesque  Style 


' I ' HE  whole  story  of  the  fortunes  of  the  Hotliic  form 
will  can  be  reduced  to  two  main  stages,  following 
one  another  chronologically,  to  which  all  the  rest  is 
subordinate.  The  first  is  the  ornamental  manifestation 
of  the  form  will,  the  second  the  architectonic.  As  the 
ornament  is  the  proper  representative  of  ^Gothic  artistic 
talent  for  the  early  northern  development,  so  for  the 
later  development  is  architecture.  The  goal  of  the 
later  development,  provided  that  a uniform  form  will 
really  lies  at  the  basis  of  all  art  production  from  the 
early  Christian  centuries  to  the  late  Middle  Ages,  must 
be  to  vary,  differentiate,  and  qualify  the  cumbersome 
elementary  laws  of  architecture  so  that  they  can  express 
the  sense  of  form  of  the  free  ornament.  And  it  is, 
indeed,  the  most  brilliant  phase  of  the  mediaeval  ar- 
tistic development  which  shows  us  how  this  sense  of 
form,  which  corresponds  to  the  psychological  structure 
of  northern  man,  although  at  first  it  has  expressed  it- 
self only  in  ornament  independent  of  purpose  and  ma- 
terial demands  gradually  masters  the  heavy,  unwieldy 
material  and  converts  it  into  a docile,  wieldy  in- 
strument of  expression,  in  spite  of  its  material  resis- 
tance. 

We  are  only  imperfectly  informed  as  to  the  pagan 
temple  in  the  north,  and  the  discussion  in  full  swing 
at  the  present  time  about  the  pre-Christian  northern 
wooden  architecture  and  about  its  connection  with  the 
Christian  temple  in  the  north  does  not  yet  allow  any 
certain  conclusions  on  these  subjects.  Burt  it  is  safe 
enough  to  say  that  the  early  northern  architecture  was 
already  governed  by  the  taste  for  the  perpendicular,  by 
the  tendency  to  create  standing,  not  lying,  buildinss. 
From  the  beginning,  northern  architecture  preferred  the 
first  of  the  two  fundamental  elements  of  tectonics, 
active  carrier  and  passive  burden,  the  mutual  relations 
of  which  had  reached  a happy  organic  equilibrium  in 
Greek  architecture.  In  northern  architecture  the  ex- 

(97) 


98 


Form  Problems  of  the  Gothic. 


pression  of  action  was  to  predominate,  the  building  was 
to  seem  a free  groAvth,  not  a burden. 

The  real  development  of  mediaeval  architecture  be- 
gan, however,  only  when  the  acceptation  of  Christianity 
demanded  an  adjustment  with  the  ancient  architectural 
principle  as  embodied  in  Early  Christian  architecture. 
This  first  led  the  north  to  stately  stone  construction, 
this  first  put  to  the  decisive  test  its  still  dull  and  erratic 
sense  of  architectonic  form.  And  it  stood  the  test.  We 
shall  omit  the  early  stages  of  the  adjustment  in  order 
not  to  obscure  bj^  tedious  prolixity  the  concise  pithi- 
ness of  the  line  of  development  described.  Even  the 
Carolingian  buildings  need  only  be  mentioned  as  an 
isolated  experiment,  somewhat  out  of  the  real  line  of 
development.  The  true  sense  of  the  development  is 
first  expressed  in  the  so-called  Romanesque  style  [PI. 
XVIII].  We  must  analyze  it  from  the  standpoint  of 
its  psychology  of  form  in  order  to  gain  an  understand- 
ing later  of  the  culmination  of  the  development  in  the 
mature  Gothic  style. 

The  Romanesque  style  means  the  stylistic  modifica- 
tion which  the  imported  Early  Christian  scheme  of  build- 
ing experienced  from  the  independent  artistic  will  of  the 
north.  Therefore,  if  we  get  the  single  points  of  this 
modification,  we  are  observing  the  Gothic  form  will  in 
the  making,  as  it  were.  For  all  the  changes  it  effected 
in  the  foreign  artistic  shape  of  the  basilica  are  indica- 
tions of  the  later,  properly  Gothic,  development  in  which 
it  has  wholly  emancipated  itself  from  this  foreign  shape. 

In  architecture  the  Romanesque  style  represents 
that  stage  of  the  adjustment  of  northern  and  antique 
artistic  sense  to  which,  in  the  development  of  ornament, 
the  style  of  the  barbarian  invasions  approximately  cor- 
responds. It  wears  the  same  grand,  steadfast  serious- 
ness, the  same  heavy,  material  splendor,  which  results 
from  the  fact  that  the  two  art  worlds  do  not  interpene- 
trate, but  stand  firmly  and  frankly  beside  each  other. 
Their  respective  strengths  seem  to  be  in  tune,  so  that, 
in  spite  of  their  abrupt  juxtaposition,  a certain  unity  of 
impression  is  imparted.  Romanesque  architecture  forms 
a style  because  the  adjustment  is  a frank  and  open  one 


Plate  XVI  IP 


Abbey  Ciiukch.  Maria  Laaoh 


a 


The  Eomanesque  Style. 


99 


in  which  every  element  vigorously  maintains  its  place. 
Northern  artistic  will  has  here  succeeded  in  gaining  a 
footing,  as  far  as  that  is  possible  while  keeping  the 
transmitted  scheme  of  the  basilica,  dependent  on  antique 
tradition. 

We  recognized  the  Gothic  form  will  as  the  striving 
for  untrammeled  action,  for  an  expressive  activity  of 
immaterial  sort.  Now,  if  we  compare  a Eomanesque 
minster  [PI.  XVIII]  with  an  Early  Christian  basilica 
[PI.  XIV,  C],  even  the  exterior  shows  us  what  this 
northern  expressional  will  has  made  out  of  the  basilical 
scheme.  The  Early  Christian  basilica  has  a homogene- 
ous accent.  The  uniform  movement  of  the  nave  toward 
the  sanctuary  is  quite  clearly  recorded  outside,  also. 
Now,  this  simple,  elementary  scheme  of  the  basilica  un- 
dergoes in  the  Eomanesque  style  a thoroughgoing  divi- 
sion into  parts  which  destroys  its  homogeneous  character 
and  substitutes  a rich  variety  for  unattractive  simplicity. 
Instead  of  the  one  accent  there  is  a multiplicity  of  ac- 
cents, which  have  a certain  rhythmic  constraint.  It 
is  like  comparing  a positive,  logically  constructed  Latin 
sentence  to  a verse  from  the  Hildebrandslied  with  its 
restless,  gnarled,  singularly  expressive  rhythm  and  its 
almost  hypertrophous  wealth  of  accents.  This  ponder- 
ous, condensed  sentence  structure,  which  almost  bursts 
from  the  amount  of  activity  compressed  in  it,  points  the 
way  for  our  understanding  of  the  ponderousness  and 
condensation  of  the  Eomanesque  style  of  architec- 
ture. Here,  movement  becomes  action.  And  the  propen- 
sity of  Eomanesque  architecture  for  division  into  parts 
is  nothing  but  the  Gothic  need  of  action,  which  wishes 
to  reshape  and  differentiate  in  accordance  with  its 
spirit  the  calm,  outwardly  quite  objective,  inexpressive 
form  of  the  Early  Christian  basilica.  People  generally 
speak  of  the  need  of  Eomanesque  architecture  for 
pictorial  appearance  and  thereby  confuse  cause  and 
effect.  For  this  pictorial  appearance  is  only  the  second- 
ary effect  of  that  primary  manifestation  of  action  which 
shows  in  the  division  into  parts.  This  need  of  action,  in 
dividing  the  expressionless  unity  of  appearance  into 
parts  and  in  calling  forth  individual  forces  from  the 


100  Foem  Peoblems  op  the  Gothic. 

dead  mass,  resolves  the  calm  into  activity  and  re- 
places simplicity  with  variety.  And  the  natural  result 
of  such  restless  activity  and  variation  is  the  pictorial 
effect.  This  pictorial  character  is  perpetuated  in  northern 
architecture  only  as  long  as  the  northern  form  ener- 
gies have  to  continue  to  develop  on  the  basis  of  the  old 
mass  construiction,  in  which  the  pictorial  effect  arises 
merely  from  the  contrast  between  the  dead  mass  and 
its  division  into  parts  which  is  made  by  the  northern 
form  energy.  As  soon  as  this  basis  disappears  and  the 
division  into  parts,  with  its  expression  of  action,  no 
longer  stands  out  against  the  background  of  dead  mass— 
that  is,  in  the  Gothic  proper — the  relief  character  of 
the  Romanesque  style  vanishes ; there  vanishes,  in 
other  words,  its  pictorial  effect.  The  pure  Gothic  is 
certainly  full  of  action,  but  without  true  pictorial  effect. 
This  clearly  proves  the  pictorial  effect  of  the  Roman- 
esque style  is  not  an  end  in  itself,  but  only  the  conse- 
quence of  a need  for  action  which  is  still  adjusting  itself 
to  the  Roman  style  of  mass  and  wall  architecture.  The 
extraordinary  pictorial  effect  of  the  style  of  the  bar- 
barian invasions  rests  on  analogous  premises. 

What  has  been  said  applies  to  the  rich  division  into 
parts  of  the  ground-plan  and  of  the  exterior  as  well. 
The  outer  appearance  is  given  its  character  by  a sys- 
tem of  blind  arcades  and  pilaster  strips  so  that  the 
dead  walls  break  up  in  life  and  movement.  This  life 
goes  on  separated  still  from  the  real  structure  of  the 
building  and  is  only  externally  imposed  upon  it,  is  only 
a decorative  accessory.  One  has  the  impression  that 
this  accumulation  of  expression  of  organic  life,  which 
appears  in  the  arcades  that  enliven  the  wall,  is  a sort 
of  makeshift  for  the  strong  northern  longing  for  ex- 
pression that  has  not  yet  found  its  real  opportunity, 
namely,  superorganic  structural  language.  For  in 
matters  of  construction  the  Romanesque  style  is,  of 
course,  subservient  still  to  the  antique  scheme.  Thus, 
the  northern  form  will  is  able  to  express  itself  only 
alongside  the  fundamental  structure  of  the  building, 
not  by  means  of  the  structure,  as  the  Gothic  does.  The 
outlay  of  externally  and  indirectly  employed  power. 


The  Romanesque  Style. 


101 


which,  in  consonance  with  the  fundamental  principle  of 
the  building’,  still  uses  organic  means  of  expression,  has 
to  make  good  the  lack  of  internally  and  directly  employ- 
ed power.  In  this  respect  the  tendency  of  the  Romanesque 
style  is  analogous  to  the  Baroque  degeneration  [PI. 
XVII].  For  we  feel  every  phenomenon  of  style  that 
shows  organic  life  under  altogether  too  severe  a stress 
to  he  Baroque.  And  this  over  stress  always  comes  when 
the  right  valves  are  clogged  and  the  proper  release 
cannot  take  place,  when  the  resources  of  organic  ex- 
pression must  regulate  a vitality  which  is  really  too 
powerful  for  them  and  which  can  be  kept  in  control  only 
by  superorganic  powers.  And  the  Romanesque  style 
is  just  as  remote  as  the  Baroque  from  superorganic, 
abstract  means  of  expression — those  of  the  Gothic  proper. 
Only,  in  the  one  case  the  road  is  still  closed  because  of 
the  dependence  upon  antique  tradition,  in  the  other  case 
the  road  is  blocked  again  by  the  revival  and  the  absolute 
predominance  of  this  same  antique  tradition.  Like  the 
Baroque,  the  Romanesque  style  is  a Gothic  attempted 
with  unsuitable,  that  is,  with  only  organic  means.  And 
we  continually  become  more  conscious  that  the  Renais- 
sance is  only  a kind  of  foreign  shape  in  this  tremendous, 
otheiuvise  uninterrupted  development  from  the  earliest 
northern  beginnings  clear  to  the  Baroque,  in  fact,  to 
the  Rococo. 

From  the  exterior  of  the  basilica  the  extended  nave 
makes  the  whole  building  seem  a lying  one  [PL  XIV,  C]. 
Given  the  tendency  of  northern  artistic  volition  to  cre- 
ate standing,  freely  rising  buildings,  with  the  expression 
of  unrestrained  action,  the  long,  lying  basilica!  form 
would,  obviously,  be  objectionable.  An  upward  expan- 
sion must  be  wrested  from  it  at  all  costs.  This  effort 
results  in  the  Romanesque  system  of  many  towers, 
which  replaces  the  horizontal  accentuation  of  the  basil- 
ica with  an  already  quite  marked  vertical  accentuation. 
Even  in  this  case,  it  is  still  an  attempt  with  unsuitable 
means.  The  towers  are  stuck  on  more  or  less  arbi- 
trarily; their  vertical  force  does  not  grow  directly  out 
of  the  inner  structure  of  the  building;  hence,  lacking  this 
structural  elasticity,  they  cannot  overcome  the  impression 


102 


Foem  Pkoblems  of  The  Gothic. 


of  material  weight.  Here,  too,  the  saving  word  is  not 
yet  spoken;  consequently,  what  is  still  denied  direct 
realization  is  attempted  by  a diversity,  by  an  accumula- 
tion of  effects.  The  change  could  proceed  only  from 
the  inside.  Only  out  of  the  innermost  core  of  the 
building  could  the  new  be  formed.  As  soon  as  this  has 
happened,  as  soon  as  this  right  cue  has  been  given, 
the  exterior  shape  of  the  building  takes  care  of  itself. 
The  building  must  first  find  its  own  soul  in  order  to 
emancipate  itself  from  the  body  and  to  give  free  vent 
to  the  Gothic  instinct  for  height,  to  this  predilection 
for  an  infinite,  immaterial  activity. 

This  emancipation  from  the  body,  that  is,  from  the 
whole  sensuous  architectural  conception  of  antique 
tradition,  commences  in  the  Eomanesque  with  the 
first  attempts  at  vaulting.  With  the  first  attempts  at 
vaulting  the  northern  architect  strikes  at  the  heart  of 
the  antique  architectural  form  previously  nnprofaned 
by  him. 

We  had  better  treat  this  important  proceeding  in 
a special  chapter. 


Inceptive  Emancipation  from  the  Principle 
of  Classical  Architecture 

A NCIENT  architecture,  under  Oriental  inspiration, 
^ had  already  deeply  occupied  itself  with  the  prob- 
lem of  vaulting  in  the  Hellenistic  period  and  further  in 
the  Eoman  period.  Eoman  provincial  art  left  imposing 
illustrations  of  its  solution  on  northern  soil  as  well 
[PI.  XIV,  B].  But  with  this  ancient  Classical  tradition 
of  vaulting  the  mediaeval  art  of  vaulting  that  is  now 
setting  in  has  only  some  degree  of  connection  technically, 
none  artistically.  It  would  certainly  be  easier  to  find 
artistic  relations  with  the  Oriental  tradition  of  vault- 
ing, which,  just  like  the  later  northern  tradition, 
aimed  at  a pictorial  rendition  of  space.  But  that  would 
lead  us  too  far  afield.  In  order  to  understand  the 
fundamental  ditference  between  the  Classical  and  the 
Gothic,  or  northern,  idea  of  vaulting,  we  must  see  what 
artistic  ends  were  subserved  by  Classical  vaulting. 
The  genesis  of  the  Classical  art  of  vaulting  is  closely 
connected  with  the  construction  of  interior  space  which 
began  in  Hellenistic  times  and  reached  its  culmination 
in  Eoman  times.  We  observed  that  in  the  Greek  epoch, 
space,  as  such,  played  no  artistic  role ; Greek  archi- 
tecture, we  saw,  was  pure  tectonics,  without  intention 
of  creating  space.  Now,  in  Hellenistic  times  Greek 
sensibility  has  lost  its  sculptural  character,  which  had 
tended  wholly  toward  the  substantial  and  tangible;  by 
contact  with  the  Orient  it  has  become  impregnated  with 
non-sensuous,  spiritual  qualities  and,  consequently,  from 
the  tectonics  there  evolves  an  art  of  space  creation. 
We  have  already  written  of  these  relationships  elsewhere. 
Even  in  this  intention  of  creating  space,  however,  the 
true  antique  remains  Classical,  that  is,  it  approaches 
even  space  with  organic  constructive  intent  and  tries 
to  treat  this,  it  would  seem,  as  something  organic,  or 
living,  in  fact,  as  something  corporeal.  In  other  words, 
clarity  of  form,  the  ideal  of  Greek  tectonics,  is  super- 
seded by  clarity  of  space,  the  ideal  of  Eoman  archi- 
tecture; the  organic  production  of  form  is  super- 

(103) 


104 


Form  Problems  of  the  Gothic. 


seded  by  the  organic  production  of  space;  the  sculp- 
ture of  form  is  superseded  by  the  sculpture  of  space 
(if  this  audacious  expression,  which,  however,  exactly 
fits  the  circumstances,  can  be  allowed).  It  is  intended 
that  the  limits  of  the  space  shall  be  such  as  the  space 
would  have  set  for  itself,  as  it  were,  in  order  to 
individualize  itself  from  infinite  space.  It  is  intended 
that  the  impression  shall  arise  of  natural  spatial  limits 
within  which  the  space  can  lead  an  independent  life 
within  organic  bounds.  Thus,  it  is  intended  that  the 
unsensuous,  that  is,  space,  be  sensualized,  that  the 
immaterial  be  materialized,  that  the  intangible  be 
objectified.  These  are  the  artistic  aims  promoted  by 
Classical  spatial  art,  which  has  the  Pantheon  as  its  most 
brilliant  achievement  [PI.  XIX].  Here,  the  vaulting  is 
only  a means  to  the  realization  of  sensuous  sculpture 
of  space,  the  ideal  of  which  is  to  create,  even  by  means 
of  spatial  relationships,  the  impression  of  a harmonious 
life,  calm  and  self-balanced.  In  this  harmonious  picture 
of  space  the  battle  of  burdening  and  carrying  forces 
has  now  completely  ceased.  The  mitigation  of  the 
structurally  unavoidable  clash  of  burden  and  power, 
which  Greek  tectonics  could  effect  only  indirectly,  that 
is,  by  means  of  a whole  system  of  symbolic,  intermediate 
members,  Roman  sensuous  sculpture  of  space  effects 
directly  by  means  of  the  art  of  vaulting:  in  its  gentle, 
organic  roundness  the  vaulting  assimilates  all  the  carry- 
ing forces  and  leads  them  without  any  violence  to  a calm, 
obvious  balance  and  conclusion.  It  would  be  hard  to  de- 
cide whether  such  an  architectonic  picture  as  the 
Pantheon  rises  up  from  the  earth  or  bears  down  upon 
it ; the  case  is,  rather,  that  these  impressions  of  carrying 
and  burdening  are  mutually  annulled  by  the  absolutely 
organic  production  of  space ; the  burdening  and  carry- 
ing forces  are  in  a state  of  exact  equilibrium. 

We  see,  therefore,  that  in  Roman  art  the  vaulting 
is — apart  from  its  imrely  practical  s’'^nificance  in 
buildings  of  utility— the  result  of  a certain  sensuous 
sculpture  of  space  and,  hence,  plainly  displays  Clas- 
sical character. 


Plate  XIX. 


Pantheox.  Rome 


Inceptive  Emancipation  ebom  the  Classical.  105 


Our  whole  account  of  the  non-seiisuous  volition  of 
Gothic  art  j>uides  us  at  once  to  an  understanding  of 
the  quite  different  artistic  requirements  which  the 
mediaeval  art  of  vaulting  has  to  meet.  This  is  not  the 
result  of  any  kind  of  organic,  sensuous,  sculptural 
tendencies ; rather,  it  serves  a striving  for  super- 
sensuous  expression  unacquainted  with  the  concept 
of  harmony.  It  is  not  concerned  with  the  balance  of 
carrying  and  burdening  elements,  active  and  passive 
elements,  vertical  and  horizontal  elements ; but  the 
action,  the  verticality,  has  to  carry  alone  the  artistic 
expression.  To  overcome  the  burden  by  a freely  rising, 
autonomous  action,  to  overcome  the  material  by  an 
immaterial  kinetic  expression — such  is  the  purpose  that 
hovers  before  the  mediaeval  art  of  vaulting,  the  goal 
it  attains  in  the  mature  Gothic.  In  the  mature  Gothic 
one  can  scarcely  speak  of  a ceiling  as  burden  [PI.  I]. 
For  the  perception  and  impression,  the  upper  limit  of 
the  space  is  only  the  result  of  the  union  of  the  un- 
burdened vertical  forces  that  press  on  from  all  sides 
and  let  the  movement  echo  away  into  infinity,  as  it 
were.  Only  by  keeping  this  goal  in  mind  can  we 
appreciate  in  their  entire,  momentous  significance  the 
first  attempts  at  vaulting  in  northern  architecture. 
Only  then,  behind  the  technical  advances,  do  we  see 
struggling  for  expression  the  form  will,  which  makes 
them  artistic  advances.,  as  w'ell. 

In  our  discussion  we  omit  entirely  the  question  of 
the  borrowing  of  architectural  forms.  This  question 
first  becomes  acute  when  the  foreign  forms  are  welcome 
to  the  peculiar  form  will,  and  then  it  is  no  longer  a 
matter  of  borrowing,  but  of  independent  reproduction. 
Then  the  acquaintance  with  the  foreign  serves  at  most 
as  a cue  to  prompt  the  still  uncertain  and  groping 
form  will  to  utterance.  It  only  provokes  and  expedites, 
therefore,  what  is  already  fore-ordained  and  ripe  for 
expression  in  the  inner  line  of  developaient.  So  these 
external  matters  cannot  alter  the  inner  course  of 
develoiiment,  and  a discussion  devoted  only  to  this 
inner,  almost  underground  development  can  appro- 


106 


Foem  Pkoblems  of  thf  Gothic. 


priately  quite  disregard  these  irrelevant  external  mat- 
ters. 

The  development  made  a beginning  with  the 
readiest  and  technically  simplest  application  of  the  prin- 
ciple of  vaulting,  the  barrel  vault  [PI.  XX,  A].  With  it 
the  first  assault  was  attempted  against  the  roof  and 
its  heaviness.  Yet  this  undifferentiated,  expressionless, 
structurally  unaccented  kind  of  vaulting,  with  its  organ- 
ically compact  form,  did  not  offer  the  longing  for  ab- 
stract expression  of  northern  artistic  volition  any  op- 
portunity to  take  hold  and  assert  itself.  This  regular, 
round  form,  in  which  the  active  and  passive  forces  were 
undiscriminated  and  which  wms  consequently  unac- 
cented structurally,  was  a dead  mass  for  the  non- 
sensuous  northern  artistic  feeling.  The  attempt  had  to 
be  made  to  get  pronounced  accents  out  of  the  uniform 
continuity  of  the  vault;  the  attempt  had  to  be  made 
to  give  the  mass  of  the  vault  an  expression  of  struc- 
tural action  corresponding  to  the  Gothic  need  of  ex- 
pression. Cross-vaulting  [PI.  XX,  B]  more  nearly  met 
these  artistic  requirements  and  so  in  the  Eomanesque 
attained  a iiredominance  that  it  had  never  had  before. 
For  the  whole  treatment — especially  the  decorative 
treatment — of  the  cross-vault  in  Eoman  times  shows 
that  it  was  then  cultivated  not  for  the  sake  of  its 
structural  and  mimic  expressiveness,  but  only  for  its 
great  technical  advantages.  It  is  significant  also  that 
the  south  of  France,  with  its  unbroken  ancient  tradition, 
refused  cross-vaulting  any  firm  footing,  although  in 
this  region  the  best  guidance  to  technical  perfection 
in  vaulting  was  offered  by  the  imposing  Eoman  vaulted 
buildings.  Southern  France  did  not  advance  to  cross- 
vaulting, it  retained  the  barrel  vault  and  gave  it  a 
monumental  shape  extremely  refined  technically.  It 
did  not  make  the  advance  to  cross-vaulting,  because 
this  contradicted  its  sense  of  form,  which  was  still 
tinged  by  the  antique.  But  the  further  we  go  into 
central  and  northern  France  and  the  more  the  Teutonic 
element  counts  in  the  population,  the  more  we  see 
the  cross-vault  dominate,  and  the  most,  finally,  in 
Norman  architecture.  On  the  other  hand,  how  very 


Plate  XX. 


A.  Notke-Dame-Du-Port,  Cleemoxt-Fekrand 


B.  La  Chapelle  St.  Mesmix 


T . 


'¥ 


-r^. . 

■» 

.1. 


' ■ 


‘4., 


'f>. . 

‘4 


V, 


•' 


Inceptive  Emancipation  from  the  Classical.  19  i 

distasteful  the  cross-vault  was  to  the  Classical  form 
will  is  best  shown  by  that  aversion  of  the  Kenaissance 
to  it  which  Burckhardt  expressly  emphasized.  To  be 
sure,  cross-vaulting  was  still  continually  used,  but  con- 
cealed. The  mimically  patent  expression  of  its  struc- 
ture was  taken  away  either,  as  in  Roman  times,  by 
coffering,  or  by  decorating  with  other  details. 

But  the  cross-vault  went  far  toward  satisfying  the 
northern  form  will.  For,  in  contrast  to  the  barrel 
vault,  which  for  northern  sensibility  was  dead,  uniform 
mass,  there  already  exists  in  its  case  a clear,  well- 
arranged  division  into  parts.  The  vaulting  already  re- 
veals itself  as  action  here.  A unitary  accent  of  height 
is  plainly  expressed  at  the  meeting  of  the  four  sec- 
troids,  and  this  accentuation  of  the  crown  is  enough 
to  give  the  whole  vault,  in  spite  of  its  real  lowness, 
the  illusion  of  rising  up  in  the  middle.  From  barrel 
vaulting,  which  is  entirely  undifferentiated  in  the 
direction  of  the  active  or  the  passive,  cross-vaulting 
is  distinguished,  therefore,  by  its  pronounced  active 
character.  In  particular,  the  groins,  along  which 
the  sectroids  come  together,  are  decisive  for  this  im- 
pression; they  give  the  vault  a linear  mimicry  that  al- 
together corresponded  to  the  northern  artistic  will. 
It  is  evident  that  the  future  Gothic  development  went 
to  work  on  this  groining.  The  first  step  was  to  em- 
phasize this  linear  mimicry  by  outlining  the  groin  arches 
with  ribs  [PI.  XXI,  B],  which  originally  had  no  in- 
herent connection  with  the  vaulting  and,  besides  their 
purpose  of  support,  also  served  to  reinforce  the 
linear  expression.  The  Romans,  too,  had  already  used 
this  rib  strengthening,  but  it  is  characteristic  that  in 
their  case  “the  strengthening  was  of  more  consequence 
during  the  execution  than  for  the  finished  building” 
(Dehio  and  Bezold).  In  other  words,  with  the  Romans 
the  rib  strengthening  played  only  a practical  role,  not 
an  artistic  one ; it  was  but  means  to  an  end.  In 
Romanesque  art,  however,  it  was  both  end  in  itself  and 
vehicle  of  artistic  expression.  On  the  other  hand, 
German  architecture  shows  by  many  examples — the 
practice  was  common  in  Westphalia,  especially — that 


108  Fobm  Problems  of  the  Gothic. 

the  ribs  were  attached  to  the  finished  vaulting  and  are 
in  this  way  plainly  to  he  recognized  as  mere  decorative 
members,  that  is,  as  mere  mimic  bearers  of  expression. 

Now  the  second  great  decisive  step  in  this  groin 
development  consists  in  allowing  the  inner  construction 
of  the  vault  to  be  covered  with  this  linear  mimicry.  It 
is  the  great  Gothic  transformation  of  the  vaulting 
system  that  makes  the  ribs  the  real  bearers  of  the 
vaulting  construction  and  puts  the  sectroids  into  the 
frame  only  as  filling.  The  ribs  become  the  essential 
scaffold  of  the  whole  construction : the  artistic  sig- 
nificance of  the  ribs  becomes  one  with  their  structural 
significance.  And  we  shall  see  how  this  process,  decisive 
for  the  whole  Gothic  problem,  continually  repeats 
itself,  how  always  at  first  the  Gotliic  longing  for  ex- 
pression is  able  to  manifest  itself  only  superficially  and 
utters  itself  only  decoratively,  beyond  the  construction, 
as  it  were,  until,  finally,  it  discovers  that  language  in 
which  alone  it  can  express  itself  in  a convincing  manner, 
namely  the  abstract,  non-sensuous  language  of  con- 
struction. Then  all  impediments  to  utterance  disappear 
and  the  unsullied,  unreserved  performance  of  the 
faculty  of  expression  is  guaranteed. 

This  idea  of  letting  the  structural  element  be  an 
end  in  itself,  of  making  it  the  bearer  of  the  artistic 
expression,  ivas  hovering  more  or  less  consciously  be- 
fore the  northern  architect  also  when  he  introduced 
the  pillar  as  sup]>orting  member  and  let  it  gradually 
crowd  out  the  column.  This  crowding  out  did  not  take 
place  quickly ; the  suggestive  power  of  antique  tradition 
was  too  strong  for  the  column,  this  true  representative 
of  antique  architecture,  to  have  died  out  at  once.  At 
first  the  pillar  only  timidly  dared  to  assert  itself  be- 
side the  column,  until  it  finally  became  evident  that  the 
future  of  the  development  belonged  to  it.  And  the 
basilica  with  ]nllars  soon  played  a dominating  role, 
particularly  in  regions  that  lay  far  from  the  scene 
of  Homan  influence  and  were  consequeiith-  less  exposed 
to  antique  suggestion. 

It  may  readily  be  seen  why  the  northern  artistic 
sense  found  the  column  distasteful  and  jireferred  the 


Inceptive.  Emancipation  fbom  the  Classical.  109 

pillar.  The  structural  function  of  support  is  organ- 
ically perceptible  in  the  column,  but  for  this  organic 
perceptibility  northern  artistic  sense  lacked  that  cul- 
tivated sensuousness  which  the  antique  had.  The  pil- 
lar, on  the  contrary,  is  entirely  objective  and  exercises 
the  function  of  carrying  without  any  by-product  of 
expression.  But  precisely  this  objective,  structural 
character  of  the  pillar  offered  the  northerner’s  desire 
for  abstract  expression  a chance  of  getting  a foothold, 
as  the  column,  which  was  tied  to  a world  of  organic 
expression,  did  not. 

The  fact  that  the  rectangular  pillar  made  its  ap- 
pearance already  in  early  Romanesque  times  proves 
that  it  was  adopted  at  first  only  because  its  shape  met 
the  northern  longing  for  expression.  It  is  not  true 
that,  as  is  usually  said,  it  put  in  its  appearance  when 
vaulting  began  to  be  intended.  But  doubtless  from  the 
tendency  toward  vaulting  the  independent  preference 
for  it  received  a dependent  technical  justification;  that 
is,  in  connection  ivith  the  purposes  of  vaulting  its 
mere  artistic  significance  became  also  a structural  one. 
For  since  the  pressure  of  the  vault  in  cross-vaulting 
is  not  evenly  distributed  but  is  concentrated  on  the 
four  outer  corners,  this  pressure  concentrated  on  the 
four  angles  below  needs  stronger  support  than  the 
weak  columns  could  offer.  Under  these  circumstances 
the  pillar  presented  itself  as  the  proper  substitute  for 
the  column. 

Through  this  structural  connection  of  vault  and 
pillar,  however,  the  pillar  gradually  begins  to  lose  its 
objective  character.  Its  latent  expressiveness  seems  to 
be  aroused  by  its  close  connection  with  the  girths  and 
ribs  of  the  vaulting.  It  is  no  longer  an  objective 
supporting  member,  as  it  was  in  the  unvaulted  basilica. 
After  it  has  come  in  touch  with  the  vaulting  by  means 
of  engaged  columns  which  receive  the  ribs  of  the  vault, 
its  vital  energy  seems  awakened  and  it  no  longer  seems 
to  carry,  but  to  ascend.  It  takes  part  as  an  active 
member  in  the  general  vertical  movement  in  process  of 
development,  and  the  structural  connection  of  the 
pillar  and  vault  systems  begins  to  express  itself  in  a 


110 


Form  Problems  of  the.  Gothic. 


clear,  convincing  mimicry  [PI.  XXI,  B]. 

This  simple  falling  back  upon  the  structural,  funda- 
mental elements  of  the  building  and  this  renunciation 
of  all  antique  artifices  for  translating  into  the  organic, 
give  the  interior  construction  of  the  Eomanesque 
minster  its  stamp,  which  is  seen  in  large  scale  and  in 
small.  As  an  example  in  point,  the  form  of  the  Eoman- 
esque capital  may  be  recalled.  The  comparison  of  a 
Eomanesque  cubiform  capital  [PI.  XI,  C]  in  its  clear 
tectonic  form  with  an  antique  capital  [PI.  XII]  shows 
best,  perhaps,  the  tendency  of  the  Eomanesque  archi- 
tect to  go  back  to  clear,  structural  objectivity.  In  all 
this  appears  a more  negative  process,  necessary  to 
(dear  the  way  for  future  development.  The  structure 
in  its  objectivity  must  first  be  cleansed  of  all  the 
sensuous  accessories  with  which  Classical  artistic  will 
has  contaminated  it,  and  the  structural  forces  must  first 
be  rallied,  before  the  great  artistic  expression  of  the 
Middle  Ages  can  be  attained  by  these  forces  alone. 

Thus,  Eomanesque  architecture  already  brings  out 
the  structure,  indeed,  but  does  not  yet  intensify  it ; the 
great  pathos  of  the  Gothic  has  not  yet  set  in.  The 
Eomanesque  style  is  a Gothic  minus  enthusiasm,  a 
Gothic  still  involved  in  material  weight,  a Gothic  with- 
out final  transcendental  deliverance.  It  has  fallen  back 
upon  logic,  but  does  not  yet  thereby  pursue  a super- 
logical  purpose.  This  seriousness  which  is  in  a large 
measure  heaviness,  this  objectivity  which  is  in  a certain 
measure  frugality,  this  show  of  agglomerate,  retarding 
weight  which  has  a ceremonial,  but  not  transporting, 
effect,  predestine  the  Eomanesque  style  to  become  the 
true  Protestant  German  style,  and  it  is,  therefore,  no 
accident  that  modern  Protestant  church  architecture 
is  fond  of  taking  up  the  Eomanesque  style  again 
[PI.  XXI,  A].  The  half-way  and  hybrid  character 
that  clings  to  Protestantism,  the  vacillation  between 
rational,  scholastic  elements  and  metaphysical  ele- 
ments, between  rigorous  subjection  to  the  word  and 
individual  freedom — all  this  is  reflected  in  the  Eoman- 
esque style,  too.  It,  too,  is  full  of  inner  contradictions. 
It  is  half  Gothic  scaffolding  already,  half  antique 


Plate  XXP 


B.  Modej^a  Cathedral 


Inceptive  Emancipation  from  the  Classical.  Ill 


masses  still.  Along  with  the  most  exacting  regularity 
of  ground-plan,  it  shows  elsewhere  a capriciousness, 
which  leads  Dehio  to  the  conclusion  that  symmetry  in  its 
strictest  form  is  thoroughly  disagreeable  to  the  Roman- 
esque, which,  consequently,  always  breaks  it  more  or 
less  abruptly.  In  no  style  are  strict  rule  and  caprice 
so  closely  connected  as  in  the  Romanesque,  in  no 
religion  are  they  so  close  together  as  in  Protestantism. 

The  German  national  character  of  the  Romanesque 
style  distinguishes  it  clearly  from  the  international, 
universal  Gothic.  The  Romanesque  is  the  style  of  pre- 
dominantly Germanic  lands,  without  much  admixture; 
it  is  most  firmly  anchored  in  Normandy,  Burgundy, 
Lombardy,  and,  finally,  Germany  proper.  Its  ef- 
florescence is  closely  connected  with  the  great  days  of 
German  imperial  rule.  With  the  faU  of  this  imperial 
power  its  period  of  resplendence  also  ends. 


Complete  Emancipation  in  the  Pure  Gothic 


E have  seen  how  the  northern  Gothic  form  ener- 


^ ^ gies  already  became  independent  in  the  Roman- 
esque style,  how  they  steadfastly  asserted  their  place 
beside  the  antique  tradition.  But  we  have  seen  also 
how  they  remained  standing  beside  it,  how  they  lacked 
the  strength  for  the  last  step,  for  the  full  emancipation 
from  antique  tradition.  This  great  and  decisive  act 
required  an  enthusiasm,  an  Man  of  the  volition,  such  as 
the  peoples  of  predominantly  Germanic  character  did 
not,  in  their  heaviness,  foster.  Their  dull,  chaotic 
bent  remained  traditional,  remained  materially  bound. 
They  lacked  the  great,  decisive  stimulus  to  free  them- 
selves from  this  subjection;  hence,  the  Romanesque 
style  presents  only  the  picture  of  suppressed,  bound, 
restrained  power. 

The  start  toward  liberating  this  j^ower  had  to  come 
from  without.  This  function  fell  to  the  lot  of  Latin 
western  Europe.  It  gave  the  irresolute  northern 
artistic  volition  the  great  initiative  that  led  it  to  full 
liberation.  The  Teutonic  north,  in  its  heaviness,  has 
alwa^^s  been  incompetent  to  formulate  independently 
what  it  has  vaguely  felt  and  wanted.  It  is  always 
western  Europe,  dominated  by  Latin  elements,  that 
overthrows  the  law  of  northern  sluggishness  and  in  a 
great  effervesence  of  its  energies  pronounces  the  word 
the  Teutonic  north  has  had  on  the  tip  of  its  tongue. 

In  the  heart  of  France,  where  Germanic  and  Latin 
elements  interjienetrate  most  intimately,  there  the  liber- 
ating deed  was  enacted,  there  the  cue  Avith  which  the 
Gothic  proper  commences  was  given.  Latin  enthusiasm, 
which  can  reach  the  highest  nitch  Avithout  losing  its 
clarity,  discoAmred  the  clear  formulation  for  the  un- 
clear northern  Amlition.  In  other  Avords,  it  created 
the  Gothic  system. 


(112) 


Plate  XXII. 


Salisbuey  Cathedral 


Complete  Emancipation  in  Pure  Gothic.  113 


In  spite  of  this,  France  cannot  be  called  the  real 
mother  country  of  the  Gothic:  the  Gothic  did  not 
originate  in  France,  only  the  Gothic  system.  For  the 
Latin  elements  in  the  population,  which  endowed  France 
with  this  power  of  initiative  and  this  power  of  clear 
formulation,  were  what,  on  the  other  hand,  also  kept 
alive  the  connection  with  the  antique  tradition  and  its 
organically  colored  artistic  will.  After  the  first  en- 
thusiasm had  died  out,  after  the  Latin  elements  had 
by  a great  exertion,  by  a mighty  achievement  decisive 
for  the  whole  Gothic,  responded  to  the  provocation 
which  the  Germanic  north  gave  for  the  clear  formula- 
tion of  the  Gothic  train  of  ideas,  their  mission  was,  so 
to  speak,  fulfilled,  and  there  set  in  a state  of  self- 
consciousness,  during  which  Classical  artistic  feeling, 
which  had  been  temporarily  totally  eclipsed  by  the 
great  mediaeval  task,  loudly  announced  itself  once 
more.  Precisely  in  this  land  of  happy  miscegenation 
there  was  no  permanent  home  for  Gothic  one-sidedness. 
The  Latin  joy  in  decorative  finish,  in  sensuous  clarity, 
and  in  organic  harmony  kept  down  too  much  the  Ger- 
manic need  of  exaggeration  and  excess.  Tims,  it  hap- 
pens that  an  unmistakable  air  of  organically  clarified 
Renaissance  feeling  hovers  over  even  the  most  beauti- 
ful and  most  mature  Gothic  buildings  in  France  [PI. 
XXV].  Full  verticality  is  never  reached,  horizontal 
accents  always  keep  the  balance.  Thus,  one  can  say, 
of  course,  that  France  has  created  the  most  beautiful, 
most  living  Gothic  huildings,  but  not  the  purest.  The 
land  of  the  unadulterated  Gothic  is  the  Germanic  north. 
To  that  extent  is  justified  the  assertion  we  made  at  the 
beginning  of  our  study  that  the  true  architectonic  ful- 
filment of  the  northern  form  will  exists  in  German 
Gothic.  To  be  sure,  English  architecture,  too,  has  undi- 
luted Grothic  coloring  [PI.  XXII]  ; to  be  sure,  England, 
which  is  too  firmly  constituted  and  self-sufficient  to 
have  had  its  own  artistic  will  so  disorientated  by  the 
Renaissance  as  Germany’s,  cultivates  the  Gothic  even 
to  this  day  as  its  national  style.  Yet  this  English  Gothic 
is  without  the  spontaneous  elan  of  the  German  Gothic, 
without  its  strong  pathos  that  breaks  against  obstacles 


114 


Fokm  Problems  of  the  Gothic. 


and  becomes  intensified.  English  Gothic  is  more  re- 
served, one  might  almost  say  more  phlegmatic;  hence, 
it  is  apt  to  be  in  danger  of  appearing  cold  and  sterile. 
Above  all,  it  is  more  superficial,  more  amateurish  than 
the  German  Gothic.  What  seems  in  the  latter  like 
inner  necessity,  seems  in  English  Guthic  like  more  or 
less  capricious  decoration. 

In  spite  of  the  indisputable  fact  that  the  Gothic 
was  most  firmly  anchored  among  Germanically  tinged 
populations  and  lasted  longest  there,  one  may  well 
agree  with  Dehio  when  he  says  that  the  Gothic  knew 
no  exact  national  bounds  but  was  a supernational  and 
a temporal  j)henomenon  which  is  exactly  characteristic 
of  the  late  Middle  Ages  when  the  national  differences 
melted  away  upder  the  glow  of  a consciousness  of 
religious  and  ecclesiastical  unity  comprising  all  Europe. 


Interior  Construction  of  the  Cathedral 


S there  not  some  analogy  to  the  battle  fought  by 
A the  church  against  natural  man,  when  the  Gothic 
forces  the  stone  into  a form  in  which  it  has  apparently 
forgotten  its  weight,  its  brittleness,  its  natural  tendency 
to  lie  down  and  has  apparently  assumed  a higher, 
living  nature?  Is  there  not  a very  deliberate  contra- 
diction of  common  experience,  a yearning  for  miracu- 
lous effects,  when  the  architect  makes  it  the  goal  of 
his  sagacity  to  render  invisible  all  that  gives  solidity  to 
the  interior  construction?  Unquestionably,  this  whole 
phase  of  the  Gothic,  which  determines  the  aesthetic 
impression,  has  nothing  to  do  with  that  striving  for 
structural  verity  whiich  seems  to  dominate  the  Gothic. 
He  who  is  unable  to  divine  the  copious  elements  of 
mysticism  commingled  with  the  calculation  of  its  mas- 
ters, will  also  be  unable  to  understand  what  they  have 
to  say  as  artists,  that  is,  as  true  sons  and  legitimate 
spokesmen  of  their  age.” 

We  place  these  sentences  of  Dehio’s  at  the  be- 
ginning of  the  chapter  on  the  Gothic  proper,  because 
they  so  aptly  hit  the  true  character  of  all  the  technical 
progress  of  the  Gothic,  because  they  show  us  in  ad- 
vance how  the  whole  outlay  of  logical  acuteness  which 
the  Gothic  builders  muster  up  serves,  in  the  last  analy- 
sis, only  superlogieal  purposes. 

There  is  scarcely  anything  new  to  add  to  the 
logical  and  psychological  interpretation  of  the  Gothic 
system,  as  it  has  been  attempted  by  many  others  along 
with  Dehio.  So  much  that  is  ingenious  and  pro- 
found has  already  been  said  on  this  theme  that  the 
danger  of  unconscious  plagiarism  is  scarcely  avoidable. 
Further,  we  are  actually  less  concerned  in  our  study 
with  this  acme  of  the  Gothic  than  with  that  latent  Gothic 
which  is  already  displayed  in  the  whole  series  of  pre- 
Gothic  styles  and  the  connection  of  which  with  the 


(115) 


116 


Form  Problems  of  the  .Gothic. 


Gothic  in  the  narrower  sense  we  wished  primarily  to 
show.  We  may,  then,  be  brief. 

As  we  have  seen,  the  Romanesque  [Pis.  XVIII,  XX, 
and  XXI]  “was  still  a style  of  masses ; that  is,  the 
natural  weight  of  the  stone,  its  materiality  was  still 
the  basis  of  the  construction  as  well  as  of  the  aesthetic 
impression.  Since  this  style  had  been  formed  under 
the  suggestion  handed  down  by  that  antique  architec- 
tural feeling  which  had  won  from  the  material  a life 
of  organic  expression,  a certain  process  of  disorganiza- 
tion of  the  material  was  necessary  first  of  all  to  aL*- 
commodate  it  to  the  northern  form  will.  What  re- 
mained in  the  Romanesque  style  after  this  disorgani- 
zation was  the  material  as  such,  the  material  which 
was  non-sensualized  hut  not  yet  spiritualized.  Exter- 
nal beginnings  of  the  spiritualization,  that  is,  of  the 
division  of  the  material  into  parts,  of  the  release  from 
it  of  active  vital  forces,  were  initiated  already  in  the 
Romanesque  style,  but  remained,  as  has  been  said,  ex- 
ternal; they  Avere  not  yet  connected  with  the  internal 
construction.  We  ascertained  the  first  step  toward  this 
internal  spiritualization  in  the  rib  construction  of  cross- 
vaulting. It  Avas  the  first  step  into  the  , Gothic  proper 
when  these  ribs  relinquished  their  character  as  mere 
mimic  enchancement  of  expression  in  order  to  take 
over  the  static  control  of  the  vault  and  consequently  to 
become  agents  of  expression  and  of  function  at  the  same 
time. 

The  development  beginning  here  was  first  brought, 
however,  to  a more  important  and  more  sweeping  re- 
sult by  the  introduction  of  the  pointed  arch. 

It  is  interesting  that  a form  Avhich  but  outwardly 
taken,  Avith  its  strongly  accented  expression  of  homo- 
geneous upward  action,  is  a sort  of  brief  linear  diagram 
of  the  mediaeval  aspiration  for  transcendence  and,  by 
the  same  tokens,  of  the  Gothic  longing  for  expression, 
that  a form  which  for  these  reasons  repeatedly,  doubtless 
only  on  decorative,  external  grounds,  found  recep- 
tion in  the  system  of  architecture  should  very  quickly 
manifest  a structural  use  which  at  a stroke  cleared  the 
way  for  the  still  structurally  impeded  Gothic  form  will. 


Plate  XXIII. 


A.  S.  Makia  jMaggioke.  Ro^ie 


C.  S.  Apollixare  IX  Cr.A.s.SE  D.  Ului  Cathedral 


■ 


•; 


•ii':''  ' 


A ?S 


Intekioe,  Construction  of  the  Cathedral.  117 

Only  because  the  decorative  significance  of  the  pointed 
arch  so  coincides  with  its  structural  significance,  did 
it  attain  to  the  standing  of  the  standard  criterion  of 
the  Gothic  style.  Wherefore,  the  incomparably  more 
important  intrinsic  significance  was,  it  is  true,  usually 
overlooked  because  of  the  more  obtrusive  extrinsic  sig- 
nificance. The  structural  advantages,  also,  of  the 
pointed  arch  were,  of  course,  known  long  before.  The 
pointed  arch  is  as  old  as  the  art  of  vaulting  itself.  To 
that  extent,  therefore,  one  cannot  speak  of  an  invention 
on  the  part  of  the  Gothic.  But  certainly  the  Gothic 
alone  has  made  it  and  its  structural  significance  the 
basis  of  a whole  system  maintained  with  the  utmost 
consistency  throughout. 

As  long  as  the  round  arch  was  held  to,  it  was  tech- 
nically difficult  to  vault  any  but  square  compartments. 
For  equal  heights  at  the  crown  resulted  only  from  equal 
spans  of  pillar  intervals.  Thus,  that  limitation  of  the 
ground-plan  to  squares  became  necessary  which  surely 
gave  the  Romanesque  building  a very  serious  and 
ceremonial  appearance,  but,  on  the  other  hand,  hindered 
the  vertical  expanse  from  running  unbroken  through 
side  aisles  and  main  aisle  as  the  northern  architectural 
will  desired.  For  two  small  square  bays  of  the  side  aisle 
must  always  be  arranged  beside  one  of  the  main  aisle 
[PI.  XXI,  B anl  PI.  XXIII,  B].  An  intimate  connection 
of  the  vaulting  of  the  side  aisle  with  that  of  the  main 
aisle  was,  therefore,  unattainable.  The  rhythm  of  the 
main  aisle  was  different  from  that  of  the  side  aisles. 
Wliere  the  main  aisle  took  a long  step,  the  side  aisles 
took  two  short  ones.  Accordinsrly,  they  only  ran  along 
beside  each  other,  not  together.  Their  only  common  char- 
acteristic lay  in  the  forward  movement,  not  in  the  up- 
ward movement.  Xow  since  this  upward  expansion  was 
the  real  goal  of  the  northern  architectural  will,  it  is  evi- 
dent how  much  it  suffered  from  that  limitation  to 
squares,  which  held  back  pnecisely  the  homogeneous  up- 
ward expansion  of  the  building. 

The  Early  Christian  basilica  had  the  altar  as  its 
object  [PI.  XIV,  C and  PI.  XXIII,  A and  C].  In  it  the 


118 


Form  Problems  of  the  Gothic. 


whole  attention  was  directed  to  this  terminus  of  the 
movement,  the  altar,  by  energetic,  compulsory  force  of 
line.  The  Gothic  cathedral,  too,  knows  a compulsory 
force  of  line.  But  the  direction  is  different.  It  is 
the  unreal  line  into  vanishing  height  toward  which  all 
powers  and  activity  are  directed.  The  basilica  had  a 
definite  goal.  The  Gothic  cathedral  has  an  indefinite 
one.  Its  movement  dies  away  in  infinity.  Now  since 
in  both  architectural  tendencies  the  specifications  of  the 
cult  in  general,  and  therefore  the  practical  spatial  needs 
as  well,  remain  the  same,  the  Gothic  upward  expansion 
can  he  evolved  only  beside,  only  in  spite  of,  this  longi- 
tudinal extension  which  the  cult  demands.  The  longi- 
tudinal extension  of  the  building  is,  therefore,  kept  by 
the  oblong  ground-plan  of  the  whole.  Now  w^hile  the 
rigid  Romanesque  system,  with  its  rhythmically  inex- 
pressive squares,  which  were  indecisive  in  their  indica- 
tion of  dirdction,  could  not  yet  counteract  this  longi- 
tudinal extension  of  the  whole  with  any  equivalent 
vertical  expansion,  the  , Gothic  system,  by  means  of  the 
pointed  arch  and  its  structural  use,  is  able  to  make  this 
great  oblong  of  the  whole  ground-plan  (against  which 
the  Romanesque  square  bay,  despite  all  vaulting,  was 
helpless)  vanish  into  a system  of  compartments  likewise 
oblong  but  ordinarily  not  hung  parallel  to  the  oblong  of 
the  total  ground-plan,,  but  perpendicular  to  it  [PI.  XXIII, 
D and  PI.  XXIV] . The  effect  of  these  compartments  is 
to  paralyze  the  exclusively  longitudinal  extension  of 
the  building  and  to  introduce  an  equivalent  latitudinal 
extension,  which  in  connection  with  the  results  already 
attained  in  vaulting  lead  to  a homogeneous  upward  ex- 
pansion. The  oblong  shape  of  the  total  ground-plan  is 
now  actually  advantageous  to  this  vertical  expansion. 
For  it  characterizes  the  whole  building  with  an  aspira- 
tion for  height,  which  acquires  redoubled  dynamics  be- 
cause of  the  relatively  narrow  lateral  limits. 

This  possibilty  of  a vertical  expanse  which  runs  un- 
broken across  the  whole  building,  including  main  aisle 
and  side  aisles  as  well— of  the  so-called  Gothic  travee — 
results  first,  as  has  been  said,  from  the  pointed  arch  and 
its  structural  consequences.  For  the  adaptable  pointed 


Plate  XXIV. 


Ulm  Catiiedr.\l 


'‘r  '-in , '.  ■ 


l-«=  ' - 


"i/«; 

/■* 


Interior  Construction  of  the  Cathedral.  119 


arch  has  first  made  it  possible  to  get  equal  crown  heights 
even  with  unequal  pillar  intervals,  that  is,  over  oblong 
compartments.  The  clumsy  ratio  1 : 2 oil  the  bays  of  the 
vaulting  of  the  main  aisle  to  those  of  the  side  aisles 
disappears;  main  and  side  aisles  get  the  same  number 
of  intimately,  mutually  related  vaults;  they  do  not  run 
along  beside  each  other  any  more  toward  a fixed  goal 
in  the  longitudinal  dimension,  but  they  rise  together  in 
the  vertical  dimension. 

The  primary  accent  of  the  whole  building  falls, 
therefore,  on  the  main  aisle  and  its  heavenward  leaping 
movement;  everything  else  is  subordinate,  ever^dhing 
else  dependent.  The  side  aisles,  which  still  functioned  in 
the  Eomanesque  style  as  independent,  coordinate  units  of 
space,  now  get  their  aesthetic  meaning  only  from  the 
movement  struck  in  the  main  aisle,  which  they  subserve 
merely  as  arses,  so  to  speak.  If  this  arsis  is  strengthen- 
ed by  the  introduction  of  two  additional  side  aisles 
[PL  XXIV],  that  only  corresponds  to  the  truly  Gothic 
need  of  piling  up  single  effects  to  increase  the  total 
impression.  The  richer  treatment  of  the  prelude  de- 
prives the  theme  of  the  whole  building — the  movement 
of  the  main  aisle  [PI.  I] — of  none  of  its  force;  on  the 
contrary,  its  great,  strong  lines  are  only  the  more  power- 
ful and  forceful  after  the  syncopation-like  protraction 
that  the  side  aisles  give. 

Through  the  introduction  of  the  pointed  arch  into 
the  construction  of  vaulting  that  process  of  demateriali- 
zation of  the  body  of  the  building  which  was  already  be- 
gun in  the  Eomanesque  is  completed.  The  Eomanesque 
style  only  achieved  an  outward  separation  of  the  stati- 
cally active  and  the  space-enclosing  elements;  now  the 
Gothic  entirely  rejects  the  merely  space-enclosing  mem- 
bers and  constructs  the  whole  building  of  statically  ac- 
tive members  alone.  Already  in  the  Eomanesque  period 
this  tendency  displayed  itself  in  the  strengthening  of 
the  ribs  of  the  vault,  in  the  separation  of  the  static 
control  of  the  rib-work  from  the  functionless  filling  of 
the  sectroids.  The  pressure  was  concentrated  upon  the 
four  corner  pillars  on  which  the  vaulting  was  built  and 
the  wall  between  the  pillars  was  thereby  disburdened. 


120 


I’oRM  Problems  of  the  Gothic. 


It  was  the  first  step  in  the  direction  of  the  complete 
dissolution  of  the  wall.  This  had  already  become  in 
large  measure  functionless  filling  like  the  sectroids.  But 
the  strong  lateral  thrust  that  the  round  arches  still 
exercised  on  the  pillars  continued  to  impose  upon  the 
latter,  for  the  time  being,  a massiveness  which  allowed 
the  Eomanesque  no  ultimate  escape  from  the  wall  and 
which,  therefore,  strikes  the  Gothic  form  will  as  some- 
thing to  be  overcome.  The  introduction  of  the  pointed 
arch  in  vaulting  construction  first  gives  the  Gothic 
architect  the  chance  to  carry  out  his  aspiration  for  a 
building  with  taut  sinews  and  pliant  members,  and  with- 
out any  superfluous  flesh  or  any  superfluous  mass.  For 
the  much  slighter  lateral  thrust  of  ogival  vaulting  per- 
mits a higher  and  juore  slender  treatment  of  the  sup- 
porting pillars,  and  thus  first  makes  possible  that 
thorough  breaking  up  of  the  static  construction,  and  that 
expression,  consonant  with  Gothic  demands,  of  delicate, 
flexible,  and  unencumhered  action.  It  is  as  if,  now — with 
the  introduction  of  the  pointed  arch — a great  self- 
consciousness  went  through  the  building.  The  cue  seems 
to  be  given  that  lets  its  pent-up  need  of  activity,  its 
predisposition  to  express  pathos,  take  the  stage.  The 
whole  building  strains  itself  in  the  joyous  consciousness 
of  being  freed  at  last  from  all  material  weight,  from  all 
terrestrial  limitations.  The  pillars  grow  high,  slender, 
and  supple ; the  vaulting  loses  itself  in  dizzy  heights. 
And  yet  everything  is  subservient  to  this  vaulting 
carried  far  aloft.  For  its  sake  only  the  building  seems 
to  exist.  The  vaulting  already  begins  at  the  foundation 
of  the  building,  as  it  were.  All  the  great  and  small 
vaulting-shafts,  which  spring  up  from  the  floor  and  like 
living  forces  invest  the  pillars,  appear  both  structurally 
and  aesthetically  as  mere  preparation  for  the  vault. 
With  lithe  strength  they  fly  up  from  the  floor  to  fade 
away  gradually  in  an  easy  movement.  The  movement 
pressing  on  from  both  sides  is  unified  in  the  crown  of 
the  vault  by  a keystone,  which,  in  spite  of  the  actual 
weight  demanded  by  its  structural  function  as  abutment, 
makes  no  aesthetic  impression  of  weight  and  appears, 
rather,  a natural  termination,  light  as  a flower. 


Interior  Construction  op  the  Cathedral.  121 


111  the  description  of  this  Gothic  interior  construc- 
tion our  terminology  has  unintentionally  altered.  It 
has  assumed  a wholly  different  and  more  sensuous  tone. 
We  are  now  talking  of  lithe,  living  forces,  of  taut  sinews, 
of  flower-like  tenninations.  Is  the  abstract,  the  super- 
organic,  the  mechanical  quality  of  Gothic  activity,  in 
the  sense  in  which  we  have  identified  it  as  the  basis  of 
northern  form  will,  not  compromised  by  such  epithets 
taken  over  from  the  conception  of  the  organic?  We 
must  enter  into  this  question,  because  the  answer  shows 
that  the  northern  artistic  volition  aims  only  at  strongly 
expresS'We  activity  and  that  it  resorts  to  the  above- 
mentioned  abstract,  mechanical  activity  because  the 
latter  is  far  superior  in  strength  of  expression  to  or- 
ganic activity,  which  is  always  tied  down  to  organic  har- 
mony and  caters,  consequently,  rather  to  the  beauty  than 
to  the  power  of  expression.  (In  a similar  way  a me- 
chanically regulated  marionette  is  more  strongly  ex- 
pressive than  a living  actor.)  The  answer  further 
shows,  on  the  other  hand,  that,  where  the  Gothic  artistic 
will  is  withheld  by  outer  circumstances  from  the  ab- 
stract means  of  expression,  it  raises  the  organic  means 
of  expression  to  such  a degree  that  they  approximate 
the  forcefuliiess  of  mechanical  expression. 

The  Gothic  architect  is  placed  in  this  position  when 
he  comes  to  the  interior  construction  of  his  cathedrals. 
The  Gothic  master  is  not  purely  a master  of  tectonics, 
like  the  Greek.  He  is,  rather,  a builder  of  interior  space 
who  continues,  and  gives  the  final  touch  to,  that  great 
process  of  spiritualizing  the  sensibilities  which  began 
in  Hellenistic  times.  Space  is  no  longer  a mere  con- 
comitant of  a purely  tectonic  process,  but  it  is  the 
primary  thing,  it  is  the  immediate  point  of  departure 
of  the  artistic  conception  of  building.  For  the  Gothic 
architect  it  is  only  a question  of  getting  from  the  space 
an  expressional  life  corresponding  to  the  ideal  aims  of 
his  artistic  creation. 

Now  space,  in  and  of  itself,  is  something  spiritual 
and  incomprehensible.  In  this,  its  essence,  it  there- 
fore eludes  every  formative  power  which  is  creative  of 
expression.  For  a thing  we  cannot  comprehend  we  can- 


122  Form  Problems  of  the  Gothic. 

not  express  either.  Space  we  can  comprehend  only 
if  we  take  away  its  abstract  character,  if  we,  by  a 
substitution,  present  it  to  ourselves  as  something-  cor- 
poreal— in  short,  if  we  transform  the  experience  of 
space  into  an  experience  of  the  senses  and  the  abstract 
space  into  real,  atmospheric  space.  Abstract  space  has 
no  life,  and  no  creative  power  can  get  any  expression 
from  it;  but  atmospheric  space  has  an  intrinsic  life 
that  directly  atfects  our  senses  and  thereby  offers  our 
formative  power  a hold. 

In  this  matter  of  building  space  the  Gothic  bent  for 
spiritualization,  therefore,  finds  itself  placed  in  a sphere 
of  organic  and  sensuous  expression.  Its  proper  sphere, 
the  non-sensuous,  is  closed  to  it;  accordingly,  it  has  only 
the  alternative  of  metamorphosing  the  sensuous  into  the 
5iipersensuous.  A supersensuous  effect  must  be  got 
from  the  sensuous  experience  of  space;  that  is  to  say, 
the  means  of  sensuous  expression  must  be  intensified  so 
as  to  produce  a supersensuous  impression.  Here,  again, 
the  inner  connection  of  Gothic  and  Baroque  makes  its 
appearance.  For  it  is  just  this  same  Gothic  mediaeval 
form  will  that  spends  its  fury  in  the  sensuous  pathos 
of  the  Baroque  after  its  proper  means  of  expression, 
the  abstract  and  the  superorganic,  have  been  taken  away 
by  the  Eenaissance.  Thus,  the  Baroque  is  characterized 
by  the  sensuous  become  supersensuous,  the  same  as 
is  the  spatial  effect  of  the  Gothic. 

This  specific  characteristic  of  Gothic  space  creation 
and  space  feeling  becomes  particularly  clear  if  one  re- 
calls the  healthy,  lucid,  sculptural  quality  of  space  in 
Roman  architecture,  as  expressed  in  the  Pantheon,  for 
instance  [PI.  XIX].  One  finds  no  pathos  here.  The 
lucidity  of  the  spatial  picture  checks  all  supersensuous, 
mystic  feeling.  The  Roman  form  will,  with  its  Classical 
stamp,  only  sought  to  give  the  space  an  organically 
independent  and  harmonically  completed  and  satisfied 
life. 

When  one  enters  the  Pantheon,  he  feels  he  is  freed 
from  his  individual  isolation.  The  mute,  ceremonial 
music  of  space  moves  him  to  a comforting,  refreshing, 
sensuous  self-communion;  he  joins  in  the  swing  of  the 


Interior  Construction  of  the  Cathedral.  123 


unspeakably  pleasant  rhythm  of  the  life  of  space;  he 
feels  sensuously  clarified.  And  what  but  this  sublime 
happiness  of  ideal  sensuous  clarification  does  Classical 
man  want  in  his  whole  art! 

But  when  one  enters  a Gothic  cathedral  [PI.  I], 
he  experiences  something  different  from  a,  sensuous 
clarification.  He  experiences  an  intoxication  of  the 
senses,  not  that  direct,  gross  intoxication  of  the  senses 
that  the  Baroque  produces,  but  a mystic  one,  not  of 
this  world. 

Gothic  space  is  unbridled  activity.  Its  effect  is  not 
ceremonial  and  calm,  but  overpowering.  It  does  not 
receive  the  visitor  with  gentle  mien,  but  carries  him 
away  by  force,  operates  as  a mystic  compulsion,  un- 
resisting submission  to  which  seems  bliss  to  the  over- 
wrought soul. 

This  deafening  by  the  fortissimo  of  the  music  of 
space  just  exactly  suits  Gothic  religion  and  its  mania 
for  redemption.  We  are  here  remote  from  any  Classical 
world.  To  be  put  in  a religious  and  ceremonial  mood 
Classical  man  only  asked  for  clarity  of  space.  His 
religious  and  artistic  contentment  were  closely  de- 
pendent on  harmony  and  balance.  Even  as  a builder 
of  space  he  remained  a sculptor.  On  the  contrary,  only 
the  pathos  of  space  can  put  Gothic  man  in  a religious 
mood.  Only  this  quality  of  pathos  raises  him  above 
his  earthly  limitations  and  his  inner  misery;  only  in 
this  ecstasy,  carried  to  self-annihilation,  is  he  able 
to  feel  the  touch  of  the  eternal.  So  even  as  builder  of 
space  his  inherent  dualism  commits  him  to  trans- 
cendentalism, to  mysticism.  While  Classical  man  sought 
only  sensuous  self-communion,  he  seeks  sensuous  self- 
oblivion,  seeks  through  self-abandonment  to  lay  hold  of 
the  supersensuous. 

The  Gothic  architect  lends  no  ear  to  the  latent 
requirements  of  atmospheric  space  for  salutary,  rhyth- 
mic boundary.  Because  of  his  morbidly  excited  need  of 
expression  he  offers  violence,  rather,  to  atmospheric  life. 
Where  the  Classical  architect  only  hearkened  to  it  and 
obeyed  it  as  an  understanding  servant,  he  actively 
opposes  it.  He  pens  it  up,  hie  gives  it  hindrance  after 


124 


Form  Problems  of  the  Gothic. 


hindrance  and  stubbornly  gets  from  it  by  force  an 
entirely  distinct  rhythmic  movement  which  is  augmented 
to  the  utmost  momentum  and  has  as  its  goal  infinite 
height.  Eebuffed  on  all  sides,  shattering  on  a thousand- 
obstacles,  the  atmospheric  life  of  the  whole  interior 
space  leads  a vehemently  agitated,  restless  existence 
until  it  finally  with  almost  audible  roar  breaks  against 
the  vaulted  ceiling.  There  a kind  of  whirlwind  is 
engendered  which  blows  irresistibly  upward.  If  one 
is  at  all  sensible  of  space,  he  never  steps  into  the 
great  Gothic  cathedrals  without  feeling  a dizziness  be- 
cause of  the  space.  It  is  the  same  feeling  of  dizziness 
which  exhales  from  the  chaotic  tangle  of  lines  in  early 
northern  ornament.  Plus  ga  change,  plus  ga  reste  la 
meme  chose. 

The  sensuous  experience  of  space  prescribes  the 
organically  rounded  shape  of  the  architectural  elements 
with  which  the  space  is  articulated.  Everything  hard, 
angular,  discordant  with  the  life  of  atmospheric  space 
has  to  he  avoided.  The  sensuous  conception  of  space 
is  transferred  to  the  system  of  its  division.  The  vault- 
ing-shafts and  ribs  which  pilot  the  course  of  the  sensu- 
ous experience  are  made  either  round  or  semicircular; 
they  have  organic  expressional  value  as  has  the  spatial 
life  they  serve.  But  here,  too,  the  transition  from 
sensuous  to  supersensuous  soon  occurs;  that  is,  the 
architectural  members  continue  constantly  to  lose  their 
corporeally  material  content  and  to  become  bearers  of 
abstract  expression.  This  process  is  accomplished  by  a 
conscious  transformation  of  the  profiles.  The  first  stage 
gives  them  a pear-shaped  section.  By  this  pear-shaped 
section  an  already  more  linear,  abstract  expression  be- 
comes dominant  within  their  very  corporeal  character. 
The  entire  elimination  of  any  suggestions  of  bodily 
expression  then  follows  in  the  second  stage : the  profiles 
become  concave  so  that  there  only  remains  framed  in 
on  either  side  by  deep  shadow’s  a slender  fillet,  which 
finally  substitutes  for  the  bodily  tangible  function  a pure- 
ly spiritual,  intangible  expressiveness.  Thus,  the  artistic 
treatment  in  this  case,  too,  leads  in  the  end  to  non- 


Interior  Construction  of  the  Cathedral.  125 


sensuous  mimicry  which  is  free  of  all  structural  purposes 
and  seems  to  exist  only  for  its  own  sake,  a mimicry 
which  gives  expression  to  no  corporeal  forces,  but  to 
spiritual  energies.  So  even  here  where  an  organically 
rounded  and  corporeally  firm  treatment  of  the  archi- 
tectural members  is  indispensable  because  of  the  un- 
avoidable sensuous  conception  of  space  on  the  one  hand 
and  because  of  the  inevitable  static  conditions  on  the 
other,  we  observe  how  the  Gothic  need  of  spiritual  ex- 
pression has  its  way  and  spiritualkes  the  material  by  a 
refined  process  of  dematerialization. 


Exterior  Construction  of  the  Cathedral 


Gothic  cathedral  is  the  most  striking  and  com- 
^ plete  representation  of  the  mediaeval  mind.  Mysti- 
cism and  scholasticism,  these  two  great  mediaeval 
vital  forces  which,  generally  appear  incompatihle  op- 
posites, are  closely  united  in  it  and  grow  directly  out 
of  each  other.  As  the  room  within  is  wholly  mysticism, 
the  construction  without  is  wholly  scholasticism.  It 
is  their  common  transcendentalism  of  movement  that 
unites  them,  the  same  transcendentalism  but  served  by 
different  means  of  expression,  in  the  one  case  by 
organic,  sensuous  means,  in  the  other  case  by  abstract, 
mechanical  means.  The  mysticism  of  the  interior  is 
merely  a scholasticism  deepened  and  rendered  organic 
and  sensuous. 

It  was  Gottfried  Semper,  with  his  Classical  pre- 
possession, who  first  coined  the  term'  “petrified  scho- 
lasticism,,’’ and  he  thought  to  discredit  the  Gothic  there- 
by. But  this  criticism,  exactly  to  the  point,  can  signify 
a condemnation  of  the  Gothic  only  to  one  who  is  incap- 
able of  surve3dng  the  great  mediaeval  phenomenon  of 
scholasticism  because  of  the  narrowness  of  his  modem 
one-sided  outlook.  We  wish  to  get  away  from  this 
modern  one-sidedness  of  judgment  concerning  scho- 
lasticism and  try  to  offer  in  place  of  a modern  and  rel- 
ative evaluation  a positive  interpretation.  For  the  pres- 
ent, we  desire  to  witness  how  this  northern  predispo- 
sition to  scholasticism  has  evinced  itself  in  architecture. 

In  ancient  architecture,  as  far  as  this  had  anything 
to  do  with  spatial  artistic  problems,  and  in  all  styles 
dependent  upon  it,  hence,  especially  in  the  Komanesque, 
the  construction  of  the  exterior  revealed  itself  as  the 
outer  complement  of  the  inner  enclosure  of  space.  Now 
we  have  seen  that  in  the  Gothic  style  the  proper  space- 
enclosing factors,  that  is,  the  firm  Avails,  haAm  been  dis- 
solved and  the  structural  and  aesthetic  functions  haAm 
dcAmlved  upon  the  individual  static  forces  of  the  con- 

(126^ 


Exterior  Construction  of  the  Cathedral,  127 

struction.  This  fundamental  alteration  of  the  architectur- 
al conception  is  l)ound  to  exercise  its  natural  reaction 
upon  the  treatment  of  the  exterior.  Outside,  the  firm, 
closed  walls  must  also  he  suppressed,  the  process  of 
emancipating  the  individual  forces  must  also  win  its 
way  through. 

We  have  seen  how  the  process  of  articulating  the 
expressionless  exterior  wall  with  pilaster  strips  and 
arcading  commenced  already  in  the  Eomanesque  style. 
But  the  active  forces  that  there  enlivened  the  wall 
and  made  it  expressive  had  only  decorative  significance, 
for  they  did  not  yet  stand  in  any  immediate,  visible  con- 
nection with  the  inner  construction.  Outer  forces  were 
speaking,  not  the  immanent  forces  active  in  the  build- 
ing itself.  The  language  of  construction  was  yet  un- 
discovered, and  to  it  alone  was  reserved  the  possibility 
of  fully  expressing  the  Gothic  will.  The  configuration  of 
the  interior,  as  we  saw  it  take  shape  in  consequence  of 
the  tendency  to  vaulting,  gave  the  cue  to  rouse  and 
make  independent  on  the  exterior  construction,  also, 
the  immanent  active  forces.  With  the  disburdening  of 
the  walls  as  carriers  of  the  vaulting  and  with  the  con- 
centration of  the  pressure  on  single,  specially  accented 
points  the  necessity  of  buttressing  arose  automatically 
just  as  it  arose  and  was  solved  under  similar  circum- 
stances in  other  architectural  styles.  The  Gothic  but- 
tress system  is  nothing  new  structurally,  yet  it  is  new  in 
that  it  is  made  visible  instead  of  being  concealed,  as 
elsewhere,  by  the  walling  in  of  the  whole.  With  this 
making  it  visible  first  conies  the  aesthetic  emphasis  of 
a structural  necessity;  that  is,  the  Gothic  longing  for 
expression  has  discovered  in  this  structural  necessity 
opportunity  for  aesthetic  expression,  as  well,  and  with 
that  has  found  the  categorical  principle  of  the  exterior 
treatment  of  the  building. 

Here,  too,  it  is  the  introduction  of  the  pointed 
arch  that  resolves  the  still  hesitant  and  groping  voli- 
tion and  causes  the  system  to  be  consistently  carried 
through.  For  only  with  the  introduction  of  the  pointed 
arch  does  the  vaulting  of  the  middle  aisle  reach  its 


128 


Form  Problems  of  the  Gothic. 


full  height  and  only  then  do  the  corresponding  pillars 
acquire  their  extreme  slenderness,  which,  in  spite  of 
the  relative  lightness  of  the  burden,  involves  the  dan- 
ger of  collapse.  The  resultant  necessity  of  making  sup- 
ports possible  at  certain  points  and,  besides,  at  a 
height  where  the  low  side  aisles  demanded  by  the  Goth- 
ic emphasis  of  the  middle  aisle  can  no  longer  be  made 
to  take  in  the  sup})orting  members,  leads  to  a but- 
tressing which  projects  free  in  the  air  away  over  the 
side  aisleS' — leads,  that  is,  to  an  avowed  displaj^  of 
the  individual  static  powers  that  make  up  the  struc- 
ture of  the  whole  building  [PI.  XXV]. 

With  a grand,  energetic  gesture  the  flying  but- 
tresses transmit  the  vaulting  thrust  of  the  central 
aisle  to  the  massive  buttress  pillars  of  the  side  aisles. 
To  make  it  easier  for  them  firmly  to  withstand  the  lat- 
eral pressure  of  the  burden,  they  are  loaded  on  top  with 
pinnacles.  The  structural  significance  of  this  buttress 
system  is  intelligible,  therefore,  only  when  one  follows 
it  out  from  the  top  downwards.  For  the  aesthetic  im- 
pression, however,  the  opposite  direction  is  what  counts, 
from  the  bottom  upwards.  We  see  how  the  heavenward 
aspiring  energies  free  themselves  from  the  power 
reservoir  of  the  buttress  pillars  to  attain  their  goal  of 
height  in  a mighty  exhibition  of  mechanical  power. 
This  movement  from  the  buttress  pillars  along  the  fly- 
ing buttresses  to  the  clerestory  of  the  middle  aisle  is 
of  a compelling  mimic  power.  All  means  are  taken  to 
force  the  observer  to  this  aesthetic  conception,  which 
is  the  reverse  of  the  structural  conception  of  the  but- 
tressing system.  For  example,  the  pinnacles  do  not 
give  the  effect  of  a burden  upon  the  buttress  pillars, 
l)ut  of  an  excess  of  their  upward  impulse  that  frees 
itself  and  already  impatiently  flies  up  before  the  real 
goal  of  the  upward  movement  is  attained.  From  this 
seemingly  vain  extravagance  of  power  in  the  pinnacles 
the  buttress  movement  which  after  this  delay  goes 
on  with  certainty,  conscious  of  its  purpose,  then  re- 
ceives a yet  more  imposing  and  more  convincing  ex- 
pressiveness. 


s 


BlOAUVAtS  Catiikdhal 


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• ' • ■•■  ■■  ^ 


-V"  -■' 

vm 


‘.■'V 


^-'.  ■: 


>Ji-^,  i 


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.Mi^.vtrjBSiiSa'>A..,s.  Z/iL  /-  '-'X  w.. 


m&m 


Extepjor  Construction  op  tite  Cathedral.  129 

While  the  mere  structural  fact  is  that  the  secrets 
of  the  free,  elastic,  structurally  iucomprehensible  form 
of  the  Gothic  interior  betray  themselves  to  one  stepping 
outside  by  a painstaking  support  and  crutch-work,  on 
which  the  building  must  lean  in  order  to  produce  its 
spatial  effect,  and  while,  therefore,  in  structure  the 
exterior  is  a disillusioning  unmasking  of  the  baffling 
treatment  of  the  interior,  the  aesthetic  impression 
which  is  suggested  to  the  observer  in  every  way  is  that 
the  upward  movement  of  the  interior  is  only  repeated  by 
this  arrangement  of  the  exterior.  The  intangible  rhyth- 
mic movement  of  the  interior  seems  to  be  petrified  with- 
out. The  upward  aspiring  forces,  that  have  not  yet 
come  to  rest  on  the  inside,  seem  on  the  outside  to 
strive,  after  freeing  themselves  from  all  limitation  and 
constraint,  to  lose  themselves  in  infinity.  With  ever 
renewed  beginnings  they  multiply  about  the  kernel  of 
the  interior  to  aspire  away  beyond  it  into  infinity. 

A sort  of  exterior  travee  is  effected.  There  now 
becomes  visible  on  the  exterior  of  the  building  also  a 
stretching  that  runs  uniformly  through  side  aisles  and 
main  aisle  toward  an  ideal  height.  The  same  transcen- 
dental expressional  movement  that  speaks  in  the  in- 
terior with  pliant,  supple  lines,  speaks  here  with  a 
harsh,  mechanically  and  prodigiously  expressive  ac- 
tivity that  unites  thousands  of  forces  to  an  identical 
purpose. 

We  have  seen  how  in  the  configuration  of  the  in- 
terior the  upward  expansion  is  still  restricted  by  the 
old  basilica!  scheme,  which,  because  of  the  cult,  places 
its  interest  in  the  sanctuary.  This  movement  exactly 
pointed  toward  the  altar  is  too  circumscribed  for  the 
propensity  of  Gothic  man  to  ideal  movement.  He 
seeks  to  counteract  this  longitudinal  movement  by  a ver- 
tical expansion  that  opens  for  him  the  way  to  the 
boundless.  The  travees  are  applied  like  brakes  on  the 
longitudinal  movement  to  divert  its  forces  upward. 
But  all  this  upward  expansion  in  the  interior  still 
lacks  the  final  consummation.  It  remains  onl^^  counter- 
movement, not  conquest.  It  cannot  autonomously  pro- 
vide the  decisive  accent,  for  this  accent  has  been  pre- 


130  Foem  Problems  of  the  Gothic. 

scribed  for  it  by  the  oiilt.  The  interior  can  and  will 
not  break  away  from  the  altar. 

Now  the  Gothic  architect  makes  np  outside  for 
this  limitation  inside.  Outside  he  can  let  the  Gothic 
form  will  speak,  released  from  all  considerations  of 
cult.  And  the  result  is  the  perfection  of  the  towers  as 
principal  accent  of  the  whole  exterior  [PI.  XXYT].  The 
emancipation  from  the  old  basilical  scheme  and  from 
its  movement  toward  the  altar  is  here  completely  ac- 
complished to  the  benefit  of  an  ideal  development  of 
height.  A directly  opposite  movement  is  thereby  ex- 
pressed. For  on  the  exterior  the  nave  acts  only  as 
preparation,  only  as  arsis,  for  the  great  triumphant 
movement  of  the  towers.  All  the  exertions  that  are 
involved  in  the  buttress  system  of  the  nave  first  give 
the  light,  natural  upward  growth  of  the  towers  its  final 
dynamic  quality.  All  the  toiling  and  struggling  of  the 
individual  forces  on  the  exterior  is  gathered  up  and 
combined,  as  it  were,  in  order  to  achieve  its  delivering 
utterance  in  the  ideal  non-purposive  architectural  form 
of  the  towers.  The  towers  finish  off  the  whole  building 
as  an  apotheosis-like  glorification  of  Gothic  transcen- 
dentalism and  there  is  no  stone  in  them  but  serves  the 
whole.  Nowhere  is  the  Gothic  ‘‘auto-intoxication  with 
logical  formalism”  more  purely  expressed  than  here, 
but,  also,  nowhere  is  the  superlogical,  transcendental 
effect  of  this  logical  multiplicity  more  monumentally 
and  more  convincingly  recorded.  A critic  with  Classical 
bias  has  no  eye  for  this  superlogical  effect;  he  sees 
only  the  means  and  overlooks  the  end.  He  sees  only 
the  outlay  of  logical  keenness  and  does  not  gi'asp  the 
superlogical  reason  for  this  outlay.  In  short,  this  petri- 
fied scholasticism  can  only  seem  to  him  madness  with 
method  in  it.  But  whoever  has  recognized  the  Gothic 
form  will,  whoever  has  traced  it  from  the  chaotic  en- 
tanglement of  the  early  ornament  up  to  the  artful 
chaos  of  this  exhibition  of  power  in  stone,  has  his 
Classical  standards  shattered  by  the  grandeur  of  this 
expression,  and  he  darkly  apprehends  the  mighty  medi- 
aeval mental  world  which  is  torn  by  extremes  and  is 
therefore  capable  of  supernatural  exertions.  And 


Plate  XXVI. 


Ulm  CatHE'DBAL 


’ 'rf  - 


.^~- 


'•  '-S-  •'';  '■  ■• 


; ..SV  T-. 


...t  r 


r#  ,-r  '^■'  *; 

■ A'" 


: 


. \ #*. 


- • * ' '’r'ii 

" '.is  V , •■»”<  « ,.■  ';Si 


'If. 


vi '.-^ S;  ^ 


V'.'  •• 


#tr 


Exterior  Construction  of  the  Cathedral. 


131 


as  long  as  he  stands  under  the  overwhelming  impres- 
sion of  this  sublime  hysteria  of  the  Gothic,  he  is  al- 
most inclined  to  be  unjust  toward  the  healing  process 
of  the  Eenaissance,  which  has  reduced  the  feverish 
Gothic  mental  life  to  a normal— one  might  almost  say 
bourgeois- — temperature  and  which  has  substituted  for 
the  grandeur  of  pathos  the  ideal  of  beauty  and  serene 
calm. 

We  were  just  speaking  of  the  architectonic  multi- 
plicity revealed  in  the  construction  of  the  system  of 
towers.  It  was  the  same  quality  of  multiplication  that 
we  identified  in  the  early  ornament.  There,  too,  we 
saw,  in  contrast  to  the  quality  of  addition  shown  by 
Classical  ornament,  that  the  individual  motive  was  mul- 
tiplied by  itself.  And  here,  in  the  architecture,  also,  the 
exponent  of  this  mathematical  evolution  is  infinity  and 
gives,  as  result  of  the  logical  process,  a chaotic  con- 
fusion. 

Gothic  man  seeks  to  lose  himself,  not  only  in  the 
infinity  of  the  large,  but  also  in  the  infinity  of  the  small. 
The  infinity  of  movement  which  gets  macrocosmic  ex- 
pression in  the  architectonic  form  of  the  whole,  gets 
microcosmic  expression  in  every  smallest  architectural 
detail.  Every  single  part  is  a world  for  itself,  re- 
plete with  perplexing  agitation  and  illiniitability.  It 
repeats  in  miniature,  but  with  the  same  means,  the  ex- 
pression of  the  Avhole.  It  demands  the  same  unre- 
sisting surrender  and  produces  the  same  effect  of 
stupefaction.  A pinnacle  tip  is  a diminutive  cathedral 
[PI.  XXVII,  A].  In  pondering  over  the  artful  chaos 
of  a tracery  [PI.  XX V]  one  can  experience  in  a small 
way  the  same  intoxication  with  logical  formalism  as 
in  the  whole  architectural  system.  The  unity  of  the 
form  will  and  its  thorough  execution  is  amazing. 

We  must  not  conclude  this  investigation  of  Gothic 
architecture,  which  is  surely  not  exhaustive,  ’without 
making  one  particular  point  clear.  We  have  inten- 
tionally avoided  citing  for  example  or  for  proof  any 
specific  building  of  the  Gothic  epoch.  Just  as  little 
have  we  entered  into  the  details  of  the  different  periods 
of  the  Gothic  proper.  A purely  psychological  invest!- 


132 


Fob.m  Problems  of  the  Gothic. 


gation  of  stjde  can  keep  in  mind,  rather,  only  the  ideal 
type,  perhaps  never  realized,  but  hovering  as  immanent 
goal  before  all  real  endeavors.  Therefore,  we  are  not 
here  concerned  with  this  or  that  monument  of  Gothic- 
architecture  but  with  the  idea  of  the  Gothic,  which  we 
have  sought  by  means  of  the  knowledge  of  the  charac- 
teristic Gothic  form  will  to  distill  from  the  richly  varied 
and  nnanced  fullness  of  its  embodiment. 


Plate  XXVII. 


A.  Pinnacle  Tip  op’  La  Sainto  Chappxle,  Pahis. 


B.  Late  Gothic  Capital 

(Metropolitoi  Museum  of  Art.  Neiv  York) 


The  Psychology  of  Scholasticism 


O CHOLASTICISM  is  in  the  field  of  religion  what 

Gothic  architecture  is  in  the  field  of  art.  It  is  an 
equally  eloquent  document  of  the  sublime  hysteria  of 
the  Middle  Ages,  and  it  has  been  misjudged  in  the 
same  way  through  the  application  of  a false  standard. 
The  misunderstandings  in  regard  to  scholasticism  are 
just  like  those  in  regard  to  Gothic  architecture. 

In  the  former,  too,  people  have  been  wont  to  see 
a display  of  logical  acumen,  the  inner  surperlogical  pur- 
pose of  which  they  did  not  grasp.  Thus,  they  have  only 
caught  at  the  outer  purpose  of  scholastic  thinking, 
namely,  at  the  intention  of  giving  the  system  of  ecclesi- 
astical dogmas  a rational  justification.  In  a tone  of 
reproach  they  have  declared  that  scholasticism  did  not 
intend  to  find  unknown,  new  truth  but  was  satisfied 
to  support  with  reasons  and  prove  rational  the  truth 
already  at  hand,  as  it  was  contained  in  the  theological 
and  philosophical  system  of  the  church — which  inwardly 
rested  upon  divine  manifestation,  outwardly  upon  the 
authority  of  Aristotle.  They  have  said  that  scholasti- 
cism was  only  a handmaid  of  theology,  that  the  whole 
display  of  logical  acuteness  was,  therefore,  determined 
only  by  the  complexity  o|f  thpi  problem,  which  con- 
sisted precisely  in  bringing  into  touch  with  the  intel- 
lect even  matters  of  revelation  and  belief  which  eluded 
direct  intellectual  explanation  and  justification.  They 
have  said  that  that  had  led  to  the  logical  subtlety,  to 
the  tortuous,  sophistic  dialectics  of  scholasticism.  Peo- 
ple saw  in  scholastic  thinking  only  the  hair-splitting 
arguments  and  logical  manoeuvres  of  an  advocate  who 
would  save  a lost  case  by  every  logical  artifice. 

On  the  contrary,  anyone  who  has  recognized  that 
secret  scholasticism  which,  in  the  peculiarly  involved, 
restless,  and  complicated  course  of  northern  thought 
in  general,  betrayed  itself  long  before  the  historical 
scholasticism  proper  and  without  any  connection  with 
the  Christian  doctrine  of  salvation,  anv  one  who  has 

(Vd-S) 


134 


Form  Problems  of  the  Gothic. 


recognized,  for  instance,  the  connection  of  the  involved 
dialectics  of  scholasticism  with  the  enigmatic  ques- 
tions, “this  favorite  form  of  Germanic  dialogue” 
(Lamprecht),  and  with  their  involved  activity  spum- 
ing all  clearness  and  directness,  is  driven  to  a view  of 
scholasticism  that  entirely  neglects  its  outer,  theologi- 
cal purpose  and  focuses  only  upon  the  character  of 
the  thinking.  As  in  these  enigmatic  questions  and 
answers  the  outlay  of  logic  and  acuinen  has  no  relation 
at  all  to  the  immediate  cause  or  result,  likewise,  in  scho- 
lasticism proper  the  direct  theological  {purpose  is 
scarcely  considered  as  compared  to  the  joy  in  a cer- 
tain turned  and  twisted  movement  of  the  thinking  as 
such.  As  one  speaks  of  the  artistic  form  will,  one  might 
speak  of  a spiritual  form  will,  that  is,  of  the  will  for 
a definite  form  of  thinking,  which  exists  quite  inde- 
pendently of  the  special  problem.  The  object  of  the 
thinking  would,  therefore,  be  scarcely  considered  here 
in  comparison  with  the  definite  propensity  to  activity 
of  the  spirit.  As  an  artistic  structural  and  architec- 
tural fury,  far  exceeding  all  practical  requirements,  has 
seized  on  northern  man,  so,  too,  there  has  seized  on 
him  a spiritual  structural  fury,  which  betrays  the 
same  need  to  be  absorbed  in  an  original  activity  of  ab- 
stract, that  is,  of  logical  or  else  of  mechanical  sort. 
Northern  intellect  did  not  have  primarily  a bent  for 
knowledge  but  for  activity.  It  evinced  this  bent  for 
activity  at  first  without  direct  purpose : this  was, 
as  it  were,  the  ornamental  stage  of  thought,  such  as 
appeared  in  the  above-mentioned  enigmatic  questions 
and  in  a thousand  other  forms.  Now  as  in  art,  the 
development  of  architecture  imposed  a direct  task  upon 
the  northern  propensity  to  purely  ornamental  form 
• — and  indeed  a task  which  did  not  evolve  from  within 
but  was  proposed  from  without,  namely,  the  elabora- 
tion of  the  antique  basilical  scheme— likewise  in  spir- 
itual respects,  the  reception  of  Christianity  and  the 
consequences  thereof  set  a task  for  the  purely  playful 
ornamental  thinking,  a task  proposed  to  it  from  with- 
out, in  the  solution  of  which  it  manifested  its  high- 
est ability.  And  just  as  the  Gothic  cathedral  far  out- 


The  Psychology  of  Scholasticism.  135 

grows  its  immediate  purpose,  the  creation  of  space,  and 
creates  in  the  tower  construiction  of  the  exterior  a monu- 
ment that  attains  nearlj^  the  same  stage  of  an  ideal  pur- 
poselessness as  was  presented  in  the  ornament,  like- 
wise, scholastic  thinking  grows  far  beyond  the  immedi- 
ate cause  of  its  application  and  becomes  an  autonomous 
manifestation  of  nonpurposive,  abstract  movement  of 
thought. 

It  cannot  be  said,  therefore,  that  the  scholastic 
wishes  to  approach  the  divine  through  intellectual 
knowledge.  He  wishes,  rather,  to  partake  of  the  divine 
through  the  manner  of  his  thinking,  through  this  chaotic, 
and  yet  in  its  logic  so  artful,  confusion  of  the  move- 
ment of  his  thought.  The  abstract  progress  of  his  think- 
ing, and  not  its  result,  gives  him  that  feeling  of  spirit- 
ual intoxication  which  brings  him  stupefaction  and  de- 
liverance. It  is  similar  to  the  abstract  progress  of 
the  line,  such  as  he  has  made  visible  in  his  ornament. 
It  is  similar  to  the  abstract  progress  of  petrified  ener- 
gies, such  as  he  has  made  msible  in  his  architecture. 
There  is  one  definite  form  will  which  governs  all  these 
utterances  and  in  spite  of  their  technical  difference 
links  them  together  as  similar  resultant  phenomena. 
There  is  the  same  auto-intoxication  with  logical  formal- 
ism, the  same  expenditure  of  rational  means  for  a su- 
perrational  purpose,  the  same  madness  with  method  in 
it,  the  same  artful  chaos.  And  to  this  similarity  of  re- 
sults must  correspond  a community  of  premise.  This 
common  premise  is  precisely  pothic  transcendentalism, 
which,  emerging  from  an  unpurified  and  unclarified 
dualism,  can  find  satisfaction  and  deliverance  only  in 
hysterical  emotions,  in  convulsive  flights,  in  exaggera- 
tions of  pathos. 

We  see,  therefore,  that  in  mediaeval  philosophy  all 
is  bound  to  the  abstract  active  process  of  thinking  in 
the  same  way  that  in  mediaeval  painting  all  is  bound 
to  the  abstract  line  and  its  inherent  expression.  As  in 
mediaeval  painting  everything  that  is  represented  is 
merged  in  the  higher  life  of  tflie  means  by  which  it  is 
represented;  so  in  scholastic  philosophy  all  direct  pur- 
pose of  knowledge  is  mieirged  in  the  higher  life  of  the 


136 


Form  Problems  of  the  Gothic. 


means  of  knowledge  and  their  autonomous  activity.  It 
is  a catastrophe  that  disorientates  and  side-tracks  all 
mediaeval  thinking  when  the  Eenaissance  degrades 
thinking,  which  was  until  then  an  end  in  itself,  into 
mere  means  to  an  end,  namely,  to  knowledge  of  ex- 
traneous scientific  truth,  when  the  purpose  of  knowl- 
edge becomes  everything  and  its  process  nothing.  Then, 
thinking  loses  its  abstract  autonomy  and  becomes  ser- 
vile; it  becomes  the  slave  of  truth.  Formerly,  it  was 
practiced  almost  without  object  and  found  its  delight  in 
its  own  activity  alone,  for  the  belief  in  revealed  divine 
truth  really  spared  it  any  craving  for  actual  knowledge, 
directed  toward  the  unknown.  But  now  an  actual  ob- 
ject, truth,  is  set  before  it,  now  it  is  required  to  give  up 
its  autonomy  and  be  absolutely  regulated  from  the 
standpoint  of  the  object.  In  short,  it  is  condemned  to 
mere  intellectual  tracing  of  truth,  that  is,  of  objective 
facts,  just  as  is,  in  painting,  the  line,  that  once,  likewise, 
lived  only  by  means  of  inherent  expression  and  now  un- 
der the  same  circumstances  also  loses  its  autonomous, 
arabesque  character  to  become  an  enclosing  contour,  a 
copy  of  the  world  of  natural  forms,  a mere  servant  of 
the  objective.  As  t]ie  new  Eenaissance  concept  of  scien- 
tific truth  is  bound  to  experiment,  so  the  new  Eenais- 
sance concept  of  artistic  truth  is  bound  to  anatomical 
study.  In  both  cases  objective  truth  has  become  the 
ideal,  and  that  means  that  firm  anchorage  has  been 
found  in  this  world.  Transcendentalism  in  intellectual 
and  artistic  creation  has  come  to  an  end.  The  Eenais- 
sance brings  the  great  healing  process,  the  great  process 
of  making  the  sensibilities  bourgeois,  which  roots 
out  all  mediaeval  abnormalities  and  for  the  power  of 
the  supernatural  substitutes  the  beauty  of  the  natural. 


The  Psychology  of  Mysticism 


A S mysticism  and  scholasticism  are  inextricably  com- 
bined  in  the  Gothic  cathedral,  as  in  it  they  grow 
immediately  out  of  each  other,  so,  too,  in  historical 
fact  they  are  very  closely  related  and  intertwined. 
What  unites  them,  what  makes  them  phenomena  of  like 
quality,  is  their  transcendental  character.  What  differ- 
entiates them  is  the  dissimilarity  of  their  means  of  ex- 
pression, which,  of  course,  is  not  accidental  but  has 
its  good  reasons,  which  grow  out  of  important  changes 
in  the  mental  life  of  northern  humanity,  and  which 
must  therefore  occupy  us  in  this  connection. 

Just  as  we  are  conscious  of  the  interior  of  the 
Gothic  minster  as  a sensuously  instigated  supersensuous 
experience,  which  contrasts  in  its  whole  nature  with 
the  abstract  expressional  world  of  Gothic  exterior  archi- 
tecture and  with  the  means  by  which  the  latter  affects 
us,  so  we  are  conscious  also  of  the  difference  between 
mysticism  and  scholasticism  shown  by  the  contrast  of 
the  more  sensuous  coloring  of  mysticism  with  the  ab- 
stract, non-sensuous  nature  of  scholasticism.  Instead 
of  intellectual  exaltation  in  which  the  religious  feeling 
of  scholasticism  tries  to  find  its  certainly  of  salvation, 
in  mysticism  we  see  ecstasy  of  sense  determine  the  re- 
ligious experience.  Mental  ecstasy  becomes  psychical 
ecstasy.  Psychical  experience,  however,  is,  like  spatial 
experience,  something  remote  from  all  that  is  mental 
or  abstract,  something  that  is  nourished  directly  by  our 
senses.  For  what  we  call  psychical  is  only  the  enhance- 
ment and  refinement  of  the  sensuous  feeling  into  the 
sphere  of  the  supersensuous.  Now  if  it  is  no  longer 
the  mind  that  soars  upward  toward  God,  as  in  scho- 
lasticism but  the  soul,  this  is  as  much  as  to  say  that 
an  increase  in  sensuousness  has  entered  into  religious 
life.  In  consequence  of  the  whole  character  of  the  ques- 
tion governing  our  investigation  this  increase  in  sen- 

(137) 


138 


Fokm  Problems  of  the  Gothic. 


suoiis  feeling-  is  an  unusually  important  phenomenon, 
from  ■which  "we  may  draw  decisive  conclusions. 

For  -wherever  we  trace  a growth  of  sensous  feeling 
in  the  inner  developmental  process  of  humanity,  we 
know  that  a mitigation  of  the  initialh*  abruptly  dualistic 
relationship  of  man  and  outer  world  has  gone  so  far 
that  the  individual  man  dares  dissever  himself  from  the 
mass  and  face  the  outer  world  alone.  For  abstractness 
of  feeling  is  nothing  but  the  result  of  mass  cohesion. 
The  coherent  mass,  yet  unditferentiated  individually, 
necessarily  feels  abstractly,  for  its  clinging  together, 
its  fear  of  losing  its  cohesion,  means  preciseh-  that  it 
is  still  so  overshadowed  by  a dualistic  anxiety  and  con- 
sequently by  a desire  of  deliverance  that  only  the  su- 
perhuman, invariable  character  of  abstract  values  can 
bring  it  rest  and  satisfaction.  Mass  feeling  and  abstract 
feeling  are  but  two  terms  for  the  same  thing.  And  it 
is  the  same  tautology  to  say  that  with  the  growth  of 
individual  consciousness  abstractness  of  feeling  re- 
laxed and  turned  into  sensuousness.  For  the  abstract 
sigmihes  the  impersonal,  the  superpersonal,  and,  as  such, 
the  expression  of  the  unditferentiated  mass;  but  sen- 
suous feeling  is  inseparably  bound  to  the  process  of 
human  individualization  and  can  belong  only  to  single 
personalities.  The  man  detached  from  the  mass  will 
necessarily  feel  sensuously  and  naturally,  because  his 
detachment  from  the  mass  indicates  precisely  that  the 
dualism  has  to  a certain  degree  vanished  and  that  a 
certain  sense  of  unity  between  man  and  outer  world 
has  come.  To  be  sure,  the  mass  can  feel  sensuously, 
too,  but  only  the  mass  that  is  composed  of  single  person- 
alities, not  the  individually  unditferentiated  mass  which 
underlies  mediaeval  feeling. 

The  dualistic  relationship  of  fear  between  man  and 
outer  wmrld  must  first  be  dissolved,  the  instinctive  con- 
sciousness of  the  unfathoma,bleness  of  existence  must 
first  be  -svashed  away,  before  man  can  dare  to  face  alone 
this  existence,  that  is,  the  infinite  phenomenal  world. 
The  growing  sense  of  personality  indicates  the  dechne 
of  broad  cosmic  sense.  Thus,  we  see  that  the  Orient  has 
never  taken  part  in  the  European  process  of  individual- 


The  Pyschology  op  Mysticism. 


139 


izatioii.  Its  cosmic  sense,  that  is,  its  awareness  of  the 
deception  of  the  phenomenal  world  and  of  the  unfath- 
omahleness  of  existence,  is  too  firmly  anchored  in  its 
instinct.  Therefore,  its  feeling  and  its  art  remain  ab- 
stract. But  in  the  development  of  northern  man,  who 
was  only  dualistically  troubled,  not  dualistically  chas- 
tened, the  increasing  outer  confidence  has  led  to  a 
noticeable  mitigation  of  the  dualism  and,  consequently, 
to  a certain  kind  of  individualization,  the  mixed,  in- 
complete character  of  which  we  cannot  fail  to  see,  but 
which  is,  none  the  less,  significant  for  such  an  increase 
of  sensuous  feeling  as  we  can  find  in  mysticism.  In 
mysticism  we  observe  that  the  personal,  psychical  ex- 
perience has  become  the  channel  of  divine  knowledge, 
and  this  shiows  us  right  away  that  in  the  relationship 
of  northern  man  to  the  world  a change  of  temperature 
has  occurred,  that  this  relationship  has  gained  in 
warmth  and  intimacy.  It  is  something  entirely  new 
and  stupendous  in  mediaeval  ideas  that  the  divine  is 
no  longer  sought  in  non-sensuous  abstractions,  which 
lie  beyond  all  that  is  earthly  and  human,  in  a realm  of 
supernatural  invariables,  but  in  the  center  of  the  ego, 
in  the  mirror  of  self -contemplation,  in  the  intoxication 
of  psychical  ecstasy.  It  is  an  entirely  new  human  self- 
consciousness,  an  entirely  new  human  pride,  that  deems 
the  poor  human  ego  worthy  to  become  the  vessel  of 
God.  Thus,  mysticism  is  nothing  but  the  belief  in  the 
divinity  of  the  human  soul,  for  the  soul  can  look  upon 
God  only  because  divine  itself.  “The  soul  as  microtheos, 
as  God  in  miniature — therein  lies  the  solution  of  eveiy 
enigma  of  mysticism”  (Windelband).  How  far  is 
such  a self-centered  standpoint  from  all  Oriental  trans- 
cendentalism, how  far  from  the  latter  is  the  belief  that 
the  human,  the  limited,  the  contingent  could  so  broaden 
itself  as  to  partake  of  the  divine,  the  unlimited,  the 
absolute ! The  Oriental  knows  that  he  can  never,  in 
his  finiteness,  look  upon  God.  His  God  lives  only  in 
what  is  beyond  man.  As  to  the  mystic,  however,  none 
of  his  self-renunciation  conceals  the  fact  that  he  thinks 
to  partake  of  the  beyond  already  in  this  world.  Since 
he  compresses  the  great  beyond,  the  beyond  that  lies 


140 


Form  Problems  of  the  Gothic. 


outside  all  that  is  human  and  living,  into  a personal  be- 
yond, that  is,  a beyond  that  is  attainable  through  mere 
self -negation,  and  since  he  thus  descends  from  world- 
negation  to  self-negation,  he  unconsciously  approaches 
the  present  world  and  its  sensuous  sphere.  Of  the 
sense  of  the  transcendental  there  has  come  about  a 
dissolution,  which  expresses  itself  all  manner  of  ways 
in  the  nature  of  mysticism.  The  principle  of  divine 
transcendence  gradually  submerges  into  the  idea  of 
divine  immanence.  Mysticism  has  got  so  close  to  earth 
that  it  no  longer  believes  the  divine  is  outside  the  world, 
but  in  the  world,  that  is,  in  the  human  soul  and  all 
that  the  soul  can  experience.  It  believes  it  can  partake 
of  the  divine  by  means  of  inner  ecstasy  and  meditation. 

With  this  idea  of  the  divinity  of  the  human  soul  ’ 
a warm  wave  of  tender  sensuousness  streams  into  the 
chill  northern  world.  For  not  only  the  divine,  but  also 
the  natural,  is  now  drawn  into  the  circle  of  the  soul’s 
experience.  Since  mysticism  makes  man  the  vessel 
of  God,  since  it  lets  God  and  the  world  be  reflected  in 
the  same  mirror  of  the  human  soul,  it  introduces  a 
beatifying  process,  a deifying  process,  or,  to  choose  a 
more  exact  phrase,  that  Tiumanizing  process  of  the  sur- 
rounding world  and  of  the  natural  which  is  consistently 
developed  into  the  idealistic  pantheism  that  hails  trees, 
animals— in  short,  all  creation — as  fraternal. 

The  certainty  of  being  able  to  see  God  in  one’s 
self  leads  to  a rejuvenation  of  the  soul,  and  this  re- 
juvenation reacts  upon  the  whole  existent  world  re- 
flected in  the  soul.  It  is  a fine,  subtle,  subjective  an- 
thropomorphism that  here  reveals  itself.  Since  the 
world  is  here  reflected  not  in  the  clear  senses,  but  in 
the  soul  (in  this  supersensuous  element),  the  process 
of  sensualizing  the  world  as  effected  b}"  mysticism  is 
not  of  such  clear,  sensuous  character  as  the  correspond- 
ing process  in  antiquity  and  in  the  Kenaissance.  Far 
better  could  one  speak  in  this  case  of  a beatifying  than 
of  a sensualizing  process.  But  given  the  close  relation- 
ship between  the  feeling  of  the  senses  and  that  of  the 
soul,  it  becomes  evident  that  this  new  mystic  feeling  did, 
nevertheless,  throw  over  a bridge  to  the  refined  sensu- 


The  Pyschology  op  Mysticism. 


141 


ous  feeling  which  the  Renaissance  made  the  European 
ideal. 

Hence,  it  is  with  mysticism  that  the  sensuous  ele- 
ment commences  in  the  Gothic,  although  it  is  at  first  so 
mild  and  elusive  that  it  appears  only  as  supersensuous- 
ness. This  sensuous  supersensuousness  of  advanced  Go- 
thic can  best  be  denominated  the  lyrical  element  of  Gothic. 
The  rejuvenation  of  the  soul  becomes  a rejuvenation  of 
the  senses,  the  joy  in  ego  becomes  the  joy  in  nature,  and 
a world  of  lyric  sentimentality  is  aroused.  It  is  the 
most  sensitive,  most  delicate  spectacle  in  the  develop- 
ment of  Gothic  to  observe  how  this  new  lyrical  element 
of  the  Gothic  adapts  its  peculiar  character  to  the  old 
frigid,  unnatural  form  will  and  gradually  envelops  the 
rigid  world  of  abstract  forms  with  flower  and  bud  dec- 
' oration.  First  comes  a coy  playing  around  the  old  stiff 
forms,  then  a more  affectionate  caressing  of  them,  and 
finally  their  complete  embrace  in  a sweet,  lyrically  toned 
naturalism.  The  capitals  become  floral  marvels  [PI. 
XXVII,  B].  There  is  no  end  of  luxuriant  crab  and 
scroll  work.  And  the  tracery  which  was  formerly  ar- 
ranged so  schematically  and  geometrically  becomes  an 
enchanted  world  of  buds  and  blossoms.  From  within 
the  hard,  linear  chaos  a blossoming  chaos  now  emerges. 
Thus,  the  ornament,  too,  follows  the  path  from  the  ab- 
stract scholasticism  of  its  early  period  to  the  sensuously 
supersensuous  mysticism  of  late  Gothic  times. 

The  formative  arts  in  the  narrower  sense  also  take 
part  in  this  lyric  joy  in  nature,  in  this  inundation  of 
the  world  with  the  soul’s  warm  waves  of  sympathy.  It 
is  not  to  the  rough,  matter-of-fact  world  that  the  mystic 
surrenders  himself  in  his  fervor  of  love,  but  to  a clari- 
fied world  of  the  soul,  a world  that  is  wholly  bathed 
in  a tender,  lyric  sentiment.  All  rigidity  melts,  all  hard- 
ness softens,  every  line  is  charged  with  the  soul’s  feel- 
ing. On  the  stern  faces  of  the  statues  blooms  a smile 
that  comes  from  the  very  heart  and  seems  the  reflection 
of  inner  bliss  [Frontispiece].  All  becomes  lyric,  heart- 
felt, and  soulful.  Nature,  which  had  been  known  to  scho- 
lasticism only  as  hard  actuality  and  had  therefore  been 
renounced,  now  becomes  the  Garden  of  God,  springs 


142 


Fokm  Problems  of  the  Gtothic. 


into  bloom,  and  changes  from  hard  actuality  to  tender 
idyl.  The  hard,  stiff  linear  treatment  of  the  characteris- 
tic drawing  is  mollified.  Angular  crinkliness  becomes 
rhythmic  calligraphy.  The  spiritually  expressive  lines 
become  soulfully  expressive,  the  spiritual  energy  of 
the  linear  expression  subsides  into  calligraphic  inti- 
mady.  What  is  lost  in  grandeur  is  gained  in  beauty. 


Individuality  and  Personality 


T T would  require  a special  account  of  detailed  and  in- 
timate  character  to  make  clear  this  charming  and 
varied  counter-play  and  interplay  of  scholastic  and  ays- 
tic,  of  superpersonally  abstract  and  personally  natural, 
feeling  in  Gothic  art.  Here,  where  we  are  interested 
only  in  the  main  lines  of  development,,  the  suggestions 
of  the  preceding  chapter  must  suiSfice.  Yet  in  this  chap- 
ter we  nofust  Ifocus  attention  upon  the  relation  of  mys- 
ticism to  the  Renaissance. 

We  have  seen  that  the  growth  of  sensuous  feeling 
which  mysticism  introduces  is  connected  with  the  proc- 
ess of  the  individualization  of  northern  mankind.  In 
religion,  as  in  art,  we  have  noticed  how  the  single  ego 
becomes  the  channel  of  feeling  and  replaces  the  mass  as 
channel  of  feeling.  Now  mediaeval  feeling  is  identical 
with  abstract,  that  is,  mass  feeling,  and,  consequently, 
it  seems  that  mysticism  prepares  for  the  development 
of  modern  times.  And  of  that  there  can  be  no  doubt: 
it  is  the  history  of  modern  feeling,  it  is  the  history  of 
modern  art,  that  commences  with  mysticism. 

Accordingly,  whoever  scents  Renaissance  air  in 
mysticism  is  not  deceived,  except  that  he  must  never 
forget  that  mysticism  is  a northern  and  the  Renaissance 
a southern  product.  Because  of  the  likeness,  he  must 
not  overlook  the  difference.  Mysticism  leads  to  Prot- 
estantism, the  southern  Renaissance  to  European  Clas- 
sicism. 

It  is,  in  fact,  the  elementary  difference  between 
northern  mankind  and  southern  that  brings  two  move- 
ments from  the  same  starting  point  to  very  different 
goals.  The  same  starting  point  of  both  movements  is 
the  passing  of  feeling  and  knowledge  over  from  the 
mass  to  the  single  ego.  With  that  we  hit  upon  Burck- 
hardt’s  graven  words,  the  discovery  of  individuality 
in  the  Renaissance.  A certain  correction  in  this  ex- 
pression will  guide  us  along  the  right  path  and  make  us 

(143) 


144 


Foem  Problems  of  the  Gothic. 


umderstand  the  difference  between  the  northern  and 
southern  development. 

The  correction  which  Burckhardt’s  saying  requires 
is  the  substitution  of  personality  for  the  word  individual- 
ity. For  personality  is  what  was  ‘ icovered  in  the 
southern  Benaissance,  which  Burckhard^  had  in  mind. 
The  concept  of  individuality,  on  the  contrary,  belongs  to 
the  northern  world,  it  characterizes  absolutely  the  in- 
most essence  of  northern  mysticism. 

For  the  word  individnality  has  negative  coloring 
that  makes  it  quite  unsuitable  to  indicate  the  southern 
phenomenon.  Its  etymological  genesis  necessarily  calls 
up  the  image  of  the  mechanical  partition  of  a mass  into 
its  smallest,  indivisible  components.  This  mecL  aical 
process  of  partition,  which  abandons  the  individual 
separate  parts  to  incoherence,  gives  no  picture  of  the 
development  which  takes  place  in  the  southern  Renais- 
sance. For  in  this  case  it  is  not  a mass  which  is  me- 
chanically cut  up  into  countless  incoherent  parts,  but 
it  is  a great  social  organism  which  gradually  becomes 
conscious  of  its  single  parts  and  develops  its  compact 
solidity  into  a thousand  fine,  individual  organs,  into  in- 
dividual organs  each  of  which  lives  that  life  which  is 
common  to  the  whole  organism,  but  in  a smaller,  less 
conspicuous  manner.  It  is  no  mechanic  process  of  par- 
tition, but  an  organic  process  of  differentiation,  in  which 
the  organic  cohesion  is  guaranteed  in  spite  of  all  differ- 
entiation. This  wholly  positive  development  the  nega- 
tive coloring  of  the  word  individuality  does  not  fit  at 
all;  but  the  word  personality,  as  we  commonly  use  it, 
certainly  does. 

All  the  more  the  negative  coloring  of  the  word  in- 
dividuality fits  the  northern  process  of  individualization 
as  this  commences  mth  mysticism.  In  the  north  it  is, 
in  fact,  more  the  process  of  decomposition,  the  process 
of  crumbling  a compact  mass  into  countless  arbitrary 
parts  that  fly  asunder  and  lack  any  concentric,  organic 
connection.  Northern  man  feels,  too,  that  this  process 
of  individualization  is  negative,  that  is,  he  soon  be- 
comes conscious  of  his  individual  isolation,  for  through 
the  negation  of  this  ego  to  which  he  has  attained  he 


Individuality  and  Peibsonality. 


145 


seeks  to  deliver  himself  from  individual  isolation.  The 
southern  Renaissance  movement,  with  its  growing  con- 
sciousness of  personality,  led  to  self-assertion,  to  self- 
affirmation,  to  self-glorification;  the  northern  individual- 
izing process  1 ''s,  on  the  other  hand,  to  self -negation, 

to  self-contempt.  Individual  character  is  here  felt  to 
be  something  negative,  in  fact,  even  something  sinful. 
The  individualism  of  mysticism  preaches  : Annihilate 
your  individuality.  Or,  as  it  runs  in  the  language  of 
mysticism:  Trample  your  nature  under  foot;  who- 
ever persists  in  self  cannot  know  God.  That  is  pre- 
cisely the  peculiar  paradox  of  mysticism:  derived  from 
individualism,  it  forthwith  directs  its  preaching  against 
its  source.  While  Renaissance  man  through  realiza- 
tion of  his  ego  and  consciousness  of  liis  personality 
becomes  inwardly  entirely  free  and  independent  and  in 
clear  self-assertion  receives  the  world  as  his  own,  north- 
ern man  after  realization  of  his  ego  gives  it  up 
again  instantly  in  ardent  seeking  after  God.  He  has 
only  become  an  individuality,  not  a personality.  So 
mysticism,  like  scholasticism,  remains  transcendental, 
and  the  element  of  intoxication,  the  need  of  deliverance, 
plays  the  same  role  in  both.  The  process  of  individual- 
ization does  not  let  the  dualistic  distraction  vanish  but 
only  makes  it  take  other  forms. 

Although  we  recognize  mysticism  to  be  a movement 
parallel  in  a certain  sense  to  the  southern  Renaissance, 
we  must  not  overlook  its  transcendental  character,  which 
makes  it  different  from  all  Classical  feeling  of  healthi- 
ness and  worldliness  and  renders  it  a purely  Gothic 
product.  For  by  Gothic  we  understand  that  great  phe- 
nomenon which  is  irreconcilably  opposed  to  the  Classic 
and  is  not  bound  to  a single  stylistic  period  but  through- 
out the  centuries  manifests  itself  continually  in  ever 
new  disguises  and  is  not  a mere  temporary  phenomenon 
but  at  bottom  is  a timeless  racial  phenomenon  which 
is  rooted  in  the  innermost  constitution  of  northern  hu- 
manity and  which,  therefore,  not  even  the  levelling 
European  Renaissance  has  been  able  to  uproot. 


146 


Fokm  Problems  of  the  Gothic. 


To  be  sure,  we  are  not  to  understand  race  in  the 
narrow  sense  of  race  purity;  rather,  the  word  race 
must  here  comprehend  all  the  peoples  in  whose  racial 
mixture  the  Teutons  have  played  an  important  role. 
And  that  holds  good  for  the  greater  part  of  Europe. 
As  far  as  it  is  penetrated  with  Teutonic  elements  it 
does,  in  a broader  sense,  show  a racial  cohesion  which, 
in  spite  of  the  racial  distinction  in  the  usual  sense, 
makes  itself  unmistakably  (felt,  and  which  is;  as  it  were, 
crystallized  and  recorded  for  all  time  in  such  historical 
phenomena  as  the  Gothic.  For  the  Teutons,  as  we  saw, 
are  the  conditio  sine  qnki  non  of  the  Gothic.  They  in- 
troduced among  self-confident  peoples  the  germs  of 
doubt  of  sense  and  of  distraction  of  soul,  out  of  which 
the  transcendental  pathos  of  the  Gothic  then  shot  up 
so  mightily. 

The  real  purpose  of  these  sketchy  observations  was 
to  lay  bare  the  latent  Gothic  before  the  Gothic  proper. 
It  would  require  another  study  to  ascertain  the  latent 
Gothic  after  the  Gothic  proper  down  to  our  own  time. 
The  Gothic  character  is  still  quite  obvious  in  the  Ba- 
roque in  spite  of  the  un-Gothic  means  of  expression.  To 
discover  the  later  variants  of  the  latent  Gothic  would 
require  much  finer  and  more  delicate  tools  than  we 
haAm  had  to  provide  for  this  investigation ; for,  of 
course,  this  latent  Gothic  constantly  acquires  more  dis- 
similar and  refined  processes  of  disguise;  and  who 
knows  whether  such  a new  investigation,  penetrating 
to  the  innermost  secret  cells  of  style  phenomena  may 
not  finally  show  even  much  northern  Classicism  of  more 
modern  times  to  be  only  disguised  Gothic! 


v;929Far' 


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